A Little Knowledge
by rev lady mal
Summary: America finds a verse in England’s handwriting that that makes very little sense. With Canada’s help, he is determined to find out what it all means. Characters: Young America, Young Canada, England, France, Prussia, Spain.
1. Chapter 1

America looked up from his primer for the hundredth time in the past hour and gazed wistfully out the window. It was a beautiful spring day: warm and sunny, the perfect day to be outdoors exploring until suppertime. He could see a man herding goats down the path towards town. Fishing boats were out in the harbor, and far off in the distance America could see England's ship, its tall masts reaching into sky as if it could touch the clouds.

"America stop fidgeting and finish your lessons."

The little colony peered over his schoolbook across the table at England who was busy writing a letter. He had stopped writing long enough to stir his tea while reading over what he had just wrote. America frowned and blurted out sullenly "When can I go outside? This is boring."

"After you finish your lessons." England answered, still reading over his letter as he took a sip of tea.

The little colony slouched in his chair, kicking his dangling feet back and forth. "Why do I have to do lessons?"

"So that you can go to grammar school, don't slouch."

"Why do I have to go grammar school?"

"So you can learn Latin."

"Why do I have to learn Latin?"

"Be_cause_ all properly educated Englishmen know Latin."

"Why do I have to be an Englishman?"

"ENOUGH!" England shouted, jumping out of his seat. "What compels you to ask such ridiculous questions?"

America shrugged his little shoulders. "I dunno."

England stared at the little boy looking up at him with guileless blue eyes. For a moment he felt a twinge of sympathy, remembering back to his own days stuck in a schoolroom learning his letters when there was a world outside to explore. He sighed and shuffled through the pile of books on the table next to America, found his old copybook and put it in front the little colony, flipping pages until he found a blank one. He pushed the quill and inkpot closer to America and said, "Spend some time working on your penmanship and then you can go outside, alright?"

"Okay." America sighed and picked up the quill. He pressed it on the page in the copybook and a large black spot spread over the page. He looked up at England who stood with hands on hips watching him. His eyebrows went up which meant, "keep going" and America went back to scribbling the letters from the passage in his primer. England returned to his seat and resumed writing his letter.

Halfway through copying the passage the second time America found his eyes wandering away from his schoolwork and back to the scene outdoors. A butterfly flitted in front of the window briefly before lighting on a flower. There was a loud throat clearing from the other end of the table and America looked back to see England watching him. He dipped the quill in the inkpot and went back to work, but found the pages had flipped over to a part of the copybook that already been written in. America started reading the neat, even writing that he knew to be England's. He turned the page to look at the poem written there and noticed a small bit of writing in the margin. He looked closer and read:

**Germans woo like lions,**

**Italians like foxes,**

**Spaniards like friars,**

**and Frenchmen like stinging bees**.

America frowned and asked, "England, what does woo mean?"

"What?" England looked up, a confused look on his face.

"This word right here." America asked again, holding up the copybook and pointing at the word written on the page so England could see.

"Oh blast!" England swore, a deep blush showing on his cheeks as he jumped to his feet to retrieve the book from America. The little colony flinched and squeaked, dropping the book on the floor.

"Give me that book!" England shouted as America scrambled under the table to retrieve it. He felt a hand grab his collar and he was yanked back to his feet.

"Here it is, I was just fetching it for you." America offered with a sheepish smile.

England snatched the book away and fumed. "Lessons are done for today, run along!"

"Yippee!" America exclaimed as he turned and ran down the hall. England watched him disappear, shaking his head in exasperation. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see who was there.

Another little boy looked up at him. "England, can I go too? I finished all my lessons." He held up his copybook to show his rows of neatly written letters.

"Uhm … why … sure, you can go now er … uhh … " England stammered, frowning down at the boy and snapping his fingers, trying to remember who he was.

"I'm Canada." He offered.

'Right, off you go then!" England said with a final snap and pointed at the boy and smiled. "Canada."

Canada grinned at England as slid down from his chair to catch up with America.

England sighed and sank wearily into the just vacated chair, watching his other little colony run to catch up with America. Kumajirou woke from his nap under the table and waddled off after them.

"America! Wait up!" Canada called after him.

America turned and watched him run up. "He let you go free too I see."

"I finished all my work."

"Teacher's pet teacher's pet!" America teased.

"No I'm not, you are! He can't even remember my name!"

"Haha, I know right? Who? Who? You'd think we had an owl living in the house." America laughed as he started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Canada asked, trotting to keep up.

America pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "To find someone who can tell me what this means."

Canada's eyes grew large when he realized what America had done. "You tore that out of your copybook?" He asked.

"Yep, it used to be his copybook, his handwriting's all over it. He wrote this too." America added smugly, pointing out the small verse written in the margin of the paper.

Canada read it, frowning, "What does 'woo' mean?"

"That's what I'm going to find out right now." America grinned. "Too bad France isn't here anymore, I bet he knows."

Canada stood for a moment, watching America walk away then said, "Wait! There's a dictionary in the library, let's try there."

America turned back and gave Canada a quizzical look. "Library?"

"It's a room with books, c'mon." The other colony said, giving America a stern look not unlike England as he walked past him.

"I knew that!" America grumbled, running to catch up.

Canada walked up the shelf where the dictionary was and pulled it down, he knelt on the floor and started thumbing through the pages; America sat down next to him and crossed his legs Indian style, amazed at how easily Canada flipped to the page where the word was. "Wow, you're really good at that." He blurted out.

"The dictionary is your friend." Canada said, running his finger down the column of words. America stuck his tongue out.

"Here it is! Canada shouted, his finger pointing to the word on the page.

"Read it." America said. Canada leaned over to get closer to the page:

to seek the favor, affection, or love of, esp. with a view to marriage.

to make love to a woman; court: _He went wooing._

Canada looked up at America, blushing. America looked at him, a look of utter disgust on his face. "Love? Marriage? Women? Does that mean girls? GROSS!"

"I guess so," Canada said, closing the dictionary and putting it back on the shelf.

America read the verse again, scowling at the paper when it failed to tell him what it meant. "Soooo, what does it mean, "Germany woos like a lion?""

"I guess it means Germany finds a girlfriend like a lion does."

"Okay, so how does a lion do that?"

I don't know, but there's a book here about animals, maybe there's something about lions in there." Canada offered, walking to another part of the room and skimming over the shelves until he stopped and pointed to a book that was on a shelf too high. "There it is America, can you help me?"

America stood up and grabbed the book on his tiptoes. He looked at the front cover, which read ANTHOLOGY OF ANIMALS OF THE WORLD.

"Thanks," Canada said, taking the book and sitting down on the floor. America joined him and they opened the book between them. Again Canada quickly turned the pages until he came to a big letter "L", then slowed down until he came to the part about lions. He started reading:

_Lion mating is notoriously quick, repetitive, and unsuccessful._ _The male usually initiates copulation with a mating snarl, which is intended to excite the female. If the female does not respond, the male lion may lick her neck, back, or shoulders until she complies._

"Ewwwwwww! Gross!" America made a face like he wanted to throw up. "Germans like to lick girls? Disgusting!"

"Père France always said Germans were horrible people." Canada replied, looking rather pale as he continued to read the passage to himself.

"Find the part about foxes next, maybe they're not so gross." America said encouragingly.

"Okay." Canada said, thumbing through the pages until he came to the letter "F". "Foxes, here we go." And he started to read:

_**A**__ fox and vixen will occasionally encounter one another in their territories. Earlier in the season they will take notice of one another but with only limited interest. As time goes on, they will spend increasingly longer amounts of time with one another, and their normally solitary footprints become paired tracks in the snow. They engage in affectionate play, spend time in close contact with each other, and generally get to know more about their mates._

"What's a vixen?" America asked.

"Uhm, that's the girl fox." Canada sighed.

"There's something wrong with a fox if he _wants_ to play with a girl." America said.

"I think vixen can also mean pretty lady."

"Why do you say that?"

"I overheard Père France one time point at a lady and say, "There goes a saucy vixen.""

"Really?" America asked. "France is pretty weird though. What does the book say about Friars?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Friars aren't animals, America they're people. We'll have to find another book to learn about them."

America looked at Canada and whined, "Another book? Isn't there an easier way to do this that doesn't make you have to read?"

Canada spun around and glared at America. "What are you complaining about I'm the one doing all the reading!"

"Fine do it your way then." The colony muttered, crossing his arms.

Finding a book about friars took a bit longer, but eventually with both colonies looking they located a book about monastic orders and began searching for something about the wooing abilities of friars. After looking through the book cover to cover, Canada looked up at America frowning, "This is so odd, it says nothing about how a friar woos."

"Maybe there's something in that part about the daily life of a friar, let's read that again." America offered.

Canada flipped back to the page America mentioned and they both began to read carefully, looking for clues:

_9:00 am The friars would work with the children teaching them religion, music, language etc. _

_10:00 am They would visit the sick and elderly. _

_11:00 am The friars would have their midday meal of fruit, soup, milk, and bread. 12:00 noon They went to the church to pray the Angelus and other midday prayers. Prayer was followed by a siesta of several hours. _

_2:00 pm The mission once again came alive with work. The friars would continue to visit, counsel or write letters and reports. _

_3:00 pm They took time to say the Rosary or other prayers and devotions. _

_4:00 pm The padres once again worked with the children, especially instructing them in music or games._

_5:00 pm More prayers and the Doctrina in the Church. _

_6:00 pm Vespers or evening prayer was recited. _

_7:00 pm The friars would have a light evening meal of soup, bread, and fruit. After the meal the friars would relax, read, play cards and socialize until night prayer and time for bed, in most cases not much later than 9:00 pm, only to awake around two in the morning and start all over again._

Canada looked up shaking his head, "I don't get it, it doesn't say anything about wooing at all, just teaching and playing games with children and saying lots of prayers."

"Yeah, that is really strange," America said, feeling very confused. "At least a bee is an animal, let's get the other book.

"Uh, you read that one," Canada said, blushing a deep red.

"Why?" America asked, concerned the other colony wasn't feeling well.

"Because Père France … " Canada couldn't finish.

"Oh, I get it, okay Canada I'll read this one." America said and found the section marked "B" in the book on animals. He found the passage about bees and began to read:

_A queen bee is selectively bred in a special "queen cell" in the hive and fed royal jelly by worker bees to induce her to become sexually mature._

_A virgin queen that survives to adulthood without being killed by her rivals will take a mating flight with a dozen or so male drones (out of tens of thousands eligible bachelors in the colony). During mating, their genitals explode and snap off inside the queen.*_

America looked up at Canada, eyes wide as saucers. Canada, still blushing looked at America, his hand covered his mouth as if he were going to be sick. "Whoa, that sounds like it would hurt."

"Why would England write such a horrible thing?" Canada said, looking as though he would start crying any second.

"Maybe it's supposed to be a joke?" America offered, collecting the books and putting them away.

"Here you two are," England said, standing in the doorway of the library. "It's time for Dinner. And after that, I thought we could go down and visit my ship." He offered with a smile.

Both colonies jumped at the sound of England's voice. America reached down and snatched up the piece of paper, stuffing it into his pocket. "Great, I'm starved!" He said cheerfully as he walked past England into the hallway. "C'mon Canada, or I'll eat your food too!"

"Better not!" Canada yelled, scooping up Kumajirou and running after him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While reading through A HREF=""The Compendium of Common Knowledge,/A a treatise on Tudor England culture and customs, I found this proverb there with some others. The whole book is worth downloading (it's free!). The bits about animals and friars were taken from websites found through a google search. Thanks for reading, enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

America knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Canada sitting on the front step of the house with his head lying on crossed arms on his knees. He walked up and could hear the other colony softly crying. He sat down next to him and asked, "What's wrong?"

Canada lifted his head, sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "The war between Père France and England is over. I have to stay with England from now on."

"Oh," America murmured, staring at England's ship. "That means he'll be leaving soon."

"I'm never going to see Père France again!" Canada cried and his head sank back down to his knees as his little body shook with fresh sobs.

America looked down at the harbor. He could make out activity as people ran around on deck, and boats hauling supplies went to and from the ship. He's already getting outfitted to leave he thought glumly. From the open door of the house he could hear voices inside talking and laughing. "Who's here?" He asked.

More sniffles, then Canada mumbled through his arms, "Prussia's here. He won his war too and came to tell England the good news. They're inside congratulating each other."

"Prussia's here?" America turned and peered into the doorway. He stood up and began to walk through the door. "That means all the fighting is over."

"For now," Canada fumed. "Everybody ran out of money and had to stop."

America couldn't resist the chance to see Prussia. He walked into the hall on tiptoes and made his way silently to the door following the voices. He peered around the doorframe into the dining room and saw England's back. Just beyond him standing facing the door was Prussia.

"My boss wants to spend time developing culture for some reason. He never was interested in military pursuits. He's even invited Voltaire to visit Brandenburg."

"Is that a good idea?" England asked. "These enlightenment philosophers are beginning to resonate with the people. They're actually questioning whether they need kings to rule over them, poor bastards."

"How better to combat a potential enemy than to study what they believe?" Prussia replied, his eyes catching sight of the little colony peeking at the doorway. "Hello there, my you're sprouting like a weed aren't you."

America's eyes grew wide when he realized Prussia was talking to him. England turned and caught sight of the boy at the door. "What are you doing lurking in the doorway like that?" He barked.

Prussia walked toward the colony and smiled at him. "You're America aren't you?"

America returned the smile. "Yes I am."

Prussia's grin grew wider, "So, what do you think of having all that new land to explore to the west?"

Before America could answer, there was a loud "ahem" from behind Prussia; America peered around the taller country in time to see England shake his head at him. England looked at America and said, "Run along now." America turned and left the room. As he walked down the hall away from them he overheard England say "constant patrols" and "can't afford it now" to Prussia. America frowned at what he heard. If England had just won a war to have access to France's former territory, why would he want to keep anyone from going there?

America pushed the thought from his mind and ran to his bedroom. Prussia was here and now was his chance to finally find out what had been plaguing his mind for weeks. He pulled up the tick on his bed and reached for the piece of rumpled copybook paper with the strange proverb on it. It was time to find out once and for all if Germans really wooed like lions. He shoved the paper in his pocket and ran to the guest room.

The door was closed but not locked. America turned the doorknob slowly and looked inside. He could see Prussia's capcase, and his dark blue and crimson trimmed coat on the back of a chair. Sitting on the table was a beautiful flintlock pistol. The steel and brass gleamed against the dark wood finish in the afternoon sunlight streaming from the window; America couldn't resist getting a closer look. He stepped quietly into the room and made his way to the table. He stared at the gun, wanting to touch it; would the metal feel cool or warm? He reached out with a finger as if drawn to the metal, and a voice from the doorway said, "I wouldn't do that."

America felt he jumped a foot in the air as he spun around to see Prussia leaning in the doorway watching him. Prussia walked into the room and stood before America, who looked up at him with wide blue eyes. "Do you even know how to tell if a pistol is loaded?" America shook his head. Prussia smiled and replied, "The proper way to answer a direct question is to stand to your full height and say, "Yes sir!" Or "No sir!"

America swallowed, stood up as tall as he could and said, "No sir!"

"Much better." Prussia said, and picked up the pistol. He pushed his coat aside revealing the leather holster underneath looped over the back of the chair, and secured the weapon inside. "Now, do you understand that unless ordered to do otherwise, you are never to touch another man's weapon?"

America started to nod his head, but then straightened his shoulders again and said, "Yes sir!"

Prussia gave him another warm smile, "Excellent. Now, why are you in my quarters touching my things?"

"I wanted to ask you something, but then I saw the pistol and –"

"I see," Prussia said, sitting down on the chair. "And what is your question?"

America had wanted so much to ask, but now that he had the opportunity he suddenly felt shy. He began to blush as he blurted out, "Is it true you like to lick girls?"

The smile disappeared from Prussia's face; his eyes grew big and stared at the boy for a few moments, and then answered, "Sometimes."

America gave Prussia a look of horror, "Do you … enjoy it?"

Prussia's look of confusion grew as he blinked and asked, "What would make you ask such a thing?"

America pulled the rumpled piece of paper torn from his copybook out of his pocket and showed it to Prussia. "I found this written in England's old copybook. Is it really true Frenchmen's' genitals explode and break off?"

Prussia choked and started to cough violently, his face turned red. America slapped him on the back to help him breathe again but the red-faced country waved him away. He settled down and cleared his throat; his grin had returned. "Where on earth did you get this information?"

America explained how he and Canada had read a book describing animals' mating habits in an attempt to decipher the strange proverb. "I get the feeling this is talking about something else." America added.

"Astute observation." Prussia said, still smiling as he read the piece of paper. He folded it neatly and put it in his own pocket. "Why doesn't England teach you something useful like how to shoot and ride horses?"

"I'd really like to learn how to do those things." America said smiling, "That would be a fun school." He looked at the dark blue coat on the chair and asked "You're in the cavalry, right? A dragoon?"

"Do you know which regiment?"

"Fifth." America answered.

"And how do you know that?" Prussia asked. America touched the crimson cuff on Prussia's coat sleeve. "Very good America, I'm impressed."

"I like the color of your coat better than England's, he looks like a giant lobster when he wears it. I think we're having lobster for supper tonight."

"Lobster's delicious," Prussia said

"Not when England makes it." America replied. "Do you think you could teach me how to shoot and ride horses Prussia?"

"You'd really like to learn how to do those things?"

America straightened his shoulders and stood as tall as he could, "Yes sir!"

"Tell you what, if the time comes that you should need to learn how to do those things, then I will teach you how."

America's face lit up, "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes sir!" Prussia answered.

"Thank you!" America shouted as he wrapped his arms around Prussia's neck. Prussia cleared his throat and said, "America, it's not customary in the regiment to hug each other."

"OH! Sorry sir!" America blushed as he jumped back.

"Stop bothering Prussia and wash up for supper." England said from the doorway, "And put on something clean while you're at it."

America walked to the doorway and turned to look back at Prussia, "Thank you again." He said.

"You're very welcome, and thank you." Prussia returned, giving America a big grin.

America smiled back, and then went to clean up for supper.

"What the blue blazes was he doing in here?" England asked.

"He wanted to ask me about this," Prussia smirked as he pulled the folded piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to England. "And also to ask me about France's exploding genitals."

America had just dried off the water he splashed on his face when he heard England's voice echo throughout the house, "Oh BLOODY HELL!"

Author's note: I really planned on "A Little Knowledge" to be a one shot, but people who were kind enough to comment on that post asked if I would continue the story, so here is the next part. Thanks for reading; I hope as always you enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 3

America rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling. The moonlight coming through the window cast shadows through the trees onto the walls of his and Canada's bedroom. For once the other colony was quiet. For weeks after England left Canada had laid in bed night after night, hugging Kumajirou and crying himself to sleep, "Je veux mon père… Je veux mon père… Je veux mon père…"

But even if Canada was quiet, America's thoughts and feelings were in constant turmoil. He felt restless and agitated. He knew part of it was from being constantly on edge from keeping an eye on Canada. Before England left, he told America it was his job to not let Canada wander too far away, or France may try to kidnap him and take him back. To make matters worse, even though the war was over, England's soldiers had stayed behind, and more were coming from England. The people were complaining about the constant English military presence. For some reason America couldn't figure out, he felt angry most of the time. He was still mad that earlier in the day after promising Canada he would teach him how to play cards he had gone into town to buy some, only to find out he didn't have enough money because of a new tax – an ENGLISH tax! Since when did England make people in America pay taxes?

America looked over at Canada. He was really quiet, even the polar bear wasn't snoring for a change. America frowned; Kumajirou always snored. He got out of bed and quietly tip toed over to Canada's bed. He wanted to make sure Canada was okay but at the same time didn't want to disturb the bear, who never woke up in a good mood.

"Canada?" America whispered.

Nothing.

"Canada?" He whispered a little louder. When he didn't even get a warning growl from Kumajirou he frowned. America grabbed the blankets and pulled them off the sleeping colony. "Canada wake up!" He said out loud. A pile of blankets and clothes were sleeping in Canada's bed.

Cold panic seeped into America's spine. "Shit!" He hissed and grabbed his breeches off the peg, stuffing his legs into them as he fished his shoes out from under the bed. He raced to the back door, grabbing his musket and powder horn and bolted outside.

When Prussia heard England tell America that protecting Canada was his responsibility, he insisted that a sentry at least needed to know how to fire a musket. They had spent the last few days teaching America and Canada how to load and shoot. America loved it, and especially loved watching Prussia load and fired his weapon with lightning speed. England had helped with the training, and America had stood in awe watching how fast he could reload and shoot as well.

Now as he ran into the woods in the moonlight, he stopped only long enough for priming his musket before running deeper into the trees. He slowed down when he came to a clearing, looking for tracks in the moonlight on the trail. He followed it down to the small creek that ran behind their house. America skidded to a stop when he saw Canada, holding Kumajirou, sitting in France's lap.

"Canada! NO!" America shouted and raised his musket.

France looked up from where he sat on the bank of the creek and smiled, "Ah look, America has arrived."

America felt something cold push under his chin and he froze. "Drop it, Señor."

As soon as the musket landed at his feet an arm went around his waist and he was plucked from the ground. He started screaming and kicking but Spain only laughed as he waded across the shallow creek to join France sitting on the opposite bank.

"What have you caught there?" France asked cheerfully.

"Why, my own little blond colony to hold and pet!" Spain laughed as he sat down next to France and tried to put America in his lap. The boy kicked and squirmed trying to break free, but Spain's arms were like iron bands around him.

France watched the little colony work himself to exhaustion and said, "Spain, you seem to have the most profound effect on children." Laughing at America as he punched Spain in the nose and screamed.

"Let me go you bastard! Canada! CANADA!" America cried out, staring wild-eyed at the sleeping child held lovingly in France's arms.

"Oh enough brat, shut up before you wake him." France said, beginning to get irritated, "No one is going to hurt either of you."

"Unless it becomes necessary to." Spain added, looking down at America and smiling.

America fought the tears welling up in his eyes, trying to be brave, but seeing Canada contentedly sleeping in France's lap terrified him. He had failed in doing the one thing England told him to do and now the poor little colony was in danger. America had to do something fast.

"Don't you dare woo him another second France!" America shouted, "So help me if your genitals explode anywhere near him –"

Both countries stopped laughing and stared at the colony glaring at France with fists clenched. France studied America's face for a moment, then replied, "Just what has Angleterre been teaching you?"

"Hard telling with that heathen bastard." Spain said, looking down at the little blond boy in his lap. He admired America's bravery yet at the same time he was shaking like a leaf.

"I admit I enjoy admiring a beautiful boy but these two are practically unbreeched babes." France said, clucking his tongue admonishingly. "Shame they are abused so being taught such disgusting and inappropriate things. I may kidnap Canada after all just to protect him."

"NO!" America cried and began struggling again, but Spain wrapped his arms around him, and he was just too tired to fight anymore. His head went down and he blushed from shame.

"I have to know," France went on, "Where did you hear such ridiculous things about me?"

America looked up at France; his face had a kind expression on it as he gently stroked Canada's head and waited for America's explanation. "It … it was something I found that England had written." He recited the verse he knew by heart now, and looked at France expectantly.

Before he could answer, Spain laughed out loud. "Friars? ¡Ay Dios mío!"

"About what I would expect, coming from Angleterre. This still doesn't explain your screaming about parts of my anatomy exploding America."

"Canada found a book about animals and it described their mating habits." America said.

"Aaaahhhhh, so stinging bees … next time I put honey in my tea I will say a prayer for those poor drones." France laughed softly, and then looked down at Canada still snuggled in his lap, he planted a kiss on his forehead and the colony opened an eye and looked up at him.

"Je t'aime mon père." Canada murmured, then opened both eyes when he saw America sitting in Spain's lap. "America? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." America muttered.

"Oh," Canada said, and clung to France even closer.

"You have to come back with me you know." America said.

"No, I don't want to! That house is an insane asylum. England always yelling at you, and you always doing stuff to make him mad on purpose. He never remembers my name, and I saw him kick Kumajirou once. So what if Kuma ate his cake, it made him sick for days! At least I don't have to listen to him late at night when he locks himself in that room and chants those strange words anymore!"

"Chants strange words?" France asked.

"Oh, he says he's talking to angels when he does that." America said sullenly. "Sounds like lots of gibberish to me."

"England thinks he can talk to angels?" Spain's look was incredulous. "The man is madder than I thought."

France threw back his head and laughed, "I know what he's doing, that damned _Liber Loagaeth_ of Dee and Kelley!"

The smile vanished from Spain's face as he swore under his breath. "¡El trabajo del Diablo! Francia, we should kidnap both of these boys before that heretic damns them to hell with him!" Spain exclaimed angrily, hugging America tighter. Spain smells nice, the little colony thought.

"You know we can't do that my friend, as much as I would like to. Are you ready to go back to war so soon?"

"No, I know that's not possible, at least he wasn't able take all your land from you."

"True, secretly handing my holdings west of the Mississippi over to you before the war ended protected Louisiana from falling into England's clutches. Do you like having all of this new land America?"

" I wouldn't know," America yawned, "I'm not allowed to explore any of it."

"Really," France said, smiling over Canada's head at Spain. "That reminds me of another English proverb – 'child's pig, father's bacon.'"

"Huh? What does that mean?" America asked.

Spain chuckled, "It means that even though the farmer gave a baby pig to his son to raise, when it was time to take the pig to market the farmer didn't give any of the money from the sale to his son, even though the pig belonged to the son."

"Doesn't sound fair at all, all this land, that by right is yours America, but England says you can't have it?" France said.

America looked at Spain and France, "You're right, it's not fair! Today I tried to buy some playing cards so Canada and I could play a new card game, but I couldn't buy them because of this new tax England put on everything made out of paper! I was so angry!"

"A tax on paper? That sounds crazy." Spain said, grinning at France wickedly.

"Wait, England is taxing the colonies? When did the colonies start sending delegations to parliament?" France asked. Spain smirked

America frowned, " The colonies don't have delegates in the British parliament."

"Mon Dieu! Are you telling me America, that England is taxing the colonies without any way for the colonies to address parliament? Why, that is an outrage!" France exclaimed with feigned anger.

"Indeed it is, how could he do that to you America?" Spain added, shaking his head sadly at the boy.

"If I were you, I wouldn't stand for it. How could he be so unfair to you?" France said with a sympathetic look.

"I don't know." America said, realization dawning on the little colony's face. Then he tried to stifle a yawn.

"Ah, it is so late, we should get you both home." France said, and stood up holding Canada who had fallen back to sleep.

Both countries carried the boys back across the creek. Spain let America on his feet when the reached the other bank so he could retrieve his musket and powder horn, then they made their way back to America's house. France carried Canada to his bed and tucked him and Kuma in, giving him one last kiss on his forehead before turning and leaving the room. America pretended to not see the tear in his eye.

America followed both countries to the door. As they were about to leave he asked France, "What should I do about England? What if he tries to make the colonies pay more unfair taxes?"

France looked down and smiled. "I would go and talk to the colonists. If you're angry with this, I imagine they are too. You need to figure out what to do about this outrage soon, before England assumes you are complacent and he does try to impose more taxes."

America thought for a moment, and then nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Right! I will go talk to the colonists tomorrow."

"Good boy." France said, giving America a pat on the shoulder. "If I may offer some more advice? It is another English proverb - '_tis better to kiss a knave than be troubled with him.'"_

America frowned, especially at the kissing part. "I don't get that at all." He replied.

France smiled at the boy's look of consternation. "You will some day. Goodnight America, and good luck to you." He bent over to give the boy a hug.

"Adiós amigo." Spain added, and he too gave the little colony a warm embrace before walking out the door.

As they walked away into the moonlit night, Spain chuckled and asked, "What are you doing, telling that poor boy such things? You know England will probably beat the child for it."

There was a smile on France's mouth, but his blue eyes were steely hard. "Just returning the favor Spain, just returning the favor. He took my colony from me, so I will take his colony from him.

"Do you honestly think he has a chance against England? He will crush the child like a bug."

"Oh, I realize he will need some help eventually. How about you, willing put in for a good cause?"

"Treason is never successful," Spain said.

"When it succeeds, it's no longer treason." France laughed, "This whole situation reminds me of a French proverb."

"Oh, which is?"

_"Quand le chat n'est pas_ _là, les_ _souris dansent."_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

Author's Note: The ink on the Treaty of Paris wasn't even dry before England made the Proclamation that none of the colonies could go west of the Appalachian mountains, the reason being that they were in debt from the war and couldn't afford the troops to patrol the newly acquired lands that were still full of French fur trappers and hostile Indians. The British however had to keep a military presence in the area, because of fears that the French would try to return and start fighting again to the land back. To pay for the British troops, England thought was only fair that the colonies should help shoulder the bill. Everyone knows what the colonists thought of that plan. Once again, thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy it!


	4. Chapter 4

"Up that tree lad! There ya go!"

America took the leg up offered by one of the men standing below and he pulled his body up to the overhanging branch. He straddled it and reached down for the rope tossed up to him. Below the small group of men and boys laughed and talked quietly while the effigy of Mr. Oliver, the new stamp distributor was hoisted up for all who passed by the large elm on the street corner to see. America wrapped the rope around the branch and secured it with a good hitch, then slid back down and hopped to the ground.

"The night watch is coming!" A boy on lookout whispered and the assembled group scattered. America followed the leader of the Loyal Nine who ran with a small group of men to a building across the street and entered through the doorway to take them to the upper floor. Once inside the men took positions at the windows to watch the street below. America stood back, catching his breath and listening for the first sound that their handiwork had been noticed.

"Relax boys, it will be first light when the men come down to work on the docks before anyone notices." The leader said, then looked at America standing there and smiled. "Having fun young master?"

America looked up at him and smiled back, "Yes I am. I should be getting ready for school right now though."

"Boston Latin School?"

"Yes sir."

"Today you will be receiving an education of another kind, even more important than Latin." The man said, ruffling America's blond head, and then moving up towards the window. "Wait until a crowd assembles before moving out. Make it look as though you are part of the people gathering to get a look."

"Aye sir," The men answered, and went back to watching through the window.

America didn't go to school that day. As predicted once people in the town began stirring about and walking by the large Elm tree, they stopped to look at the effigy of the stamp distributor. Most people laughed at it, as the stamp tax was very unpopular in all of the colonies. America waited with the men and then they gradually joined the crowd to also point and laugh at the hanging figure in the tree. The colony climbed onto a lamppost for a good view and spent the day watching the crowd grow. Eventually the local sheriff arrived with some men to take the effigy down and was threatened with loss of life if they touched it. America joined the mob, hurling insults at the sheriff until he stomped away red faced to inform the governor.

America was so busy heckling the police with the rest of the crowd and laughing at the spectacle he helped create, he failed to notice Canada standing back and watching the scene, a worried frown on his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Canada sat at the table in the dark. He knew it was long past midnight but he was determined to stay awake and confront America when he came home. If he came home. All day the crowd in front of the large elm on Essex and Orange streets, now being called the "Liberty Tree" had gathered around to see the effigy of Mr. Oliver hang there. Men like Samuel Adams had been there to keep the crowd riled up and threatened anyone with any kind of authority with death if they tried to take the cause of the riot down. When the day progressed to afternoon and the members of the Council assembled to discuss what was to be done, Only then did the rioters take the effigy down and paraded through the streets with it. Canada could just imagine America there in the front of the crowd, marching with a lit torch in hand shouting with the others, that reckless smile on his face. The rabble of troublemakers had given themselves the name "Sons of Liberty." Canada shook his head and snorted at the nonsense. Causing fear and riots was hardly the stuff of freedom.

As the evening progressed, and America didn't return home for supper, Canada heard people running down the street screaming that the rioters had torn down a building under construction owned by Mr. Oliver and gone to his house with the effigy. They decapitated it in front of his house, and then used the lumber from his unfinished shop building to burn the effigy on the man's lawn! They broke into his house, vandalized it, and then demanded Mr. Oliver appear so they could kill him. Fortunately the man and his family had the foresight to flee to the neighbors and the crowd then turned on the Sheriff and Governor, who arrived to tell the crowd to disperse. They pelted both men with rocks and had to escape before they were seriously injured or worse. When Canada had asked the people on the street if they had seen America in the riot, they sadly admitted he was there in the front ranks throwing rocks with the rest of the mob.

Canada had returned home and sat down at the kitchen table, feeling sick. When England heard about this … "Oh God." Canada said out loud, his hand going up to his mouth.

"Oh God what?" America's silhouette said, standing in the doorway.

Canada jumped a foot in his seat, and then peered at America standing in the dark. Even in the shadows he could see the bruise on the colony's forehead. Canada jumped up; fumbled for a twig from the tinderbox and lit it in the hearth. He quickly brought the flame to the candle on the table and lit it. As the light grew he looked at America's face. His blue eyes were bright, but there was a strange gleam in them Canada didn't recognize. His shirt was ripped, and there was a button missing from his waistcoat. His face was dirty from soot and a small trickle of blood ran down his temple. He sat down in the chair opposite Canada and grinned.

"You were at the riot!" Canada shouted angrily, grabbing the ladle from the water bucket and pouring water into a bowl. He fetched a clean rag and began dabbing at the cut on America's head, making the other colony yelp with pain.

"Ouch! That hurts damn it! Yeah I was there, you missed all the fun Canada! Haha! I will never forget hearing the governor scream like a girl when we started throwing rocks at him!"

"And what do you think will happen when the Governor's report reaches England?"

America was quiet for a moment as he looked up at Canada, wincing as the boy tried to clean up the bad cut before it became infected. "Maybe England will get it through his thick skull these people don't want to pay his taxes."

"Funny you should mention thick skulls," Canada grumbled, dabbing at the cut, "In case you haven't noticed yet, but this is an English colony America. England's boss is our boss too."

"WRONG!" America shouted, jumping up and pushing Canada back hard enough he almost fell. "The colonies don't participate in England's government, England has no right to tax them. Just like Samuel Adams said, 'next they will tax our property, then the produce of our land.' England won't stop with the stamp act, he'll keep taking more until there's nothing left here. He wants to turn us all into slaves!"

"Slaves? Don't be ridiculous America!" Canada exclaimed. The strange light in America's eyes was really beginning to scare him.

"Don't you see? Paying these taxes is submitting to England's tyranny. As free born men we can't do that!"

"Did that bump on your head knock all the sense out of you? What you're saying is insane! And I don't care how tall you're getting, you're not a man yet, you're still a boy who has to obey his father, just like a king's subjects have to obey him! I won't listen to any more of it!" Canada tossed the bloody rag into the bowl and ran down the dark hallway to his room.

America listened to the bedroom door open and slam shut. He grinned wickedly, staring at the candle flame, remembering the excitement of the evening. He wished he could be there when England read the governor's report. He wanted to see the look on his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

America didn't go to school the next day either. When the master asked Canada where the other colony was he quickly made up a story about helping the neighbors build a new barn and a beam came down and hit him on the head. Canada was really worried about him. He hadn't stirred when he tried to rouse him, but he was still breathing so he decided to let him sleep it off.

Canada walked up the path towards their house just in time to see America talking to two men on the doorstep. One of the men handed him something and they took off into the woods. Canada stared really hard, because one of them looked familiar. America disappeared through the door and Canada frowned. What was he up to now?

Canada entered the house and found the table scattered with books. When the initial shock wore off he walked up to the table to see what on earth America would voluntarily read. Canada eyes grew large when he saw the dictionary open. He skimmed the page for a clue when one word made him stop.

**con⋅ju⋅gal: 1. of, pertaining to, or characteristic of marriage: conjugal vows. 2. pertaining to the relation of husband and wife.**

Canada blushed as he slammed the book shut. "Why is it," a voice said behind him, "Every time you read the dictionary you blush?"

Canada turned and faced America. The strange light was still in his eyes, as well as the grin that told him he was up to no good. "Why are you looking up a word like conjugal? If you went to school and did your Latin homework you would know what that word means already."

America answered him by rolling his eyes and sitting back down at the table. He picked up another book written by John Locke and turned a few pages. "Listen to this Canada, this book is amazing, 'the master of the family has a very distinct and differently limited power, both as to time and extent, over those several persons that are in it; … he has no legislative power of life and death over any of them, and none too but what a mistress of a family may have as well as he. And he certainly can have no absolute power over the whole family, who has but a very limited one over every individual in it.'"

Canada just stared and blinked. He didn't want to go where America's mind was going.

"Don't you see Canada? No Patriarch has absolute power over anyone! The father only has power over his family for as long as they live under his roof! Once they leave they have the same rights as the father does! This means that if I decide I'm ready to be on my own England no longer has control over me! Isn't that fantastic?"

"What does that have to do with the word conjugal?" Canada asked, raising an eyebrow at the other colony.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that." America said, scratching the back of his head, "Locke describes how a man and woman marry to create a family, then compares that to how a father like a king, only has power to rule over his family as long as they consent to it."

"So, a father can only rule over his family as long as they want him to?" Canada asked, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Exactly!" America grinned, jumping out of his seat. He grabbed Canada by the shoulders and started shaking him. "Look at these people Canada, they've lived here for over a hundred years with no king, no masters. Is it chaos? Is it anarchy? No, there's law and order here. We don't need a father, and we don't need a king. We're doing just fine without 'em."

"Oh you mean like last night? That law and order?" Canada asked sarcastically, breaking free of America's grasp. "You shouldn't be reading books like these, they're giving you the wrong ideas."

"Really Canada, and what have you been reading lately?" America asked, waggling his eyebrows with an evil look. "I bet it's here in your book bag right now!" He grabbed the bag off the back of the chair where Canada had left it, and opened the clasp to dump out the contents. Canada squealed and grabbed the strap, trying to tug it away from America before he could get to the contents inside. America pulled out the book he was after, and let the bag go, making Canada sprawl into the rushes.

"I knew it! TOM JONES! Aaaahahahahahah!" America threw back his head and laughed out loud. Canada sat on the floor and looked up at him, a look of humiliation on his face as the blush disappeared into the collar of his waistcoat. "I've heard about this book, isn't this a satire about the prejudices of class in English society? Subversive literature indeed!"

"Damn it America, give that back! That's not why I'm reading it!" Canada shouted, jumping to his feet and trying to grab the book away from America, who just held it over his head so the shorter colony couldn't reach it.

"Oh really, then what are you reading it for?" America laughed as he sat down and tossed the book on the table. Canada snatched it up and hugged it to his chest, his lower lip quivering. "That book is nothing but smut and you know it. I guess you are your father's son after all."

Tears streamed down Canada's face as he stood over America, who was still laughing at him. "DAMN IT AMERICA I HATE YOU!" He screamed as he turned and ran to his room. America laughed louder as he slammed the door behind him. He threw himself on his bed sobbing, disturbing Kuma from his nap and making the bear growl. America had fallen in with evil men bent on treason, it was clear to him now. Canada had to do something before it got too far out of hand and terrible things happened, to either of them. He walked over to the little writing desk and pulled out a piece of hemp paper. He dipped his quill and began writing a letter to England, trying to keep his tears from smearing the ink on the page too much. Kumajirou looked up at the door from where he slept on Canada's bed, listening to America's laughter float down the hall and grumbled, "What an asshole."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: No exploding genitals this time, but the boys are getting older and their tastes in reading material are definitely changing.

The Boston Riot took place on August 14, 1765, shortly after the House of Burgesses adopted Patrick Henry's Stamp Act resolutions in Virginia. A new group of laborers and shopkeepers in Boston began to organize at this time, at first calling themselves the Loyal Nine, but quickly changing their name to the Sons of Liberty as hundreds began to join their number. Their meeting place became the tree where Andrew Oliver's effigy hung on August 14th. A yellow flag would be hung there to alert the members when a meeting would take place. Other towns in all of the colonies eventually adopted the practice of meeting at a liberty tree or liberty pole to organize against the British crown. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Canada held his breath in the chilly late autumn air; his heart pounding in his ears as he watched the large buck follow a doe that did her best to act oblivious to the rutting deer sniffing the air behind her. In the corner of his eye he could see America behind the next tree, priming his rifle and he began doing the same. The doe stopped; ears and tail flipping nervously as she looked around, the buck unaware of anything but the object of his attraction as he trotted up to her, making a low grunting sound. She skittered off a little further and both Canada and America aimed their muskets at the same time. Canada was a bit quicker on the trigger and he grinned as he watched his ball hit the buck in the vitals. The deer lurched back when the bullet from America's gun embedded itself into his skull and he fell down dead where he stood. All that remained of the doe was her white tail bouncing away from them into the forest.

"Nice shot." America said, slapping Canada on the back as they both walked up to the deer. Kumajirou sniffed the ground and began lapping at the puddle of warm blood pooling under the animal. Canada grinned as he watched America pull out a large knife and crouched down to begin gutting the animal. His grinned faded however when he saw the small silver medallion fall out of America's shirt as he leaned over to cut into the deer.

After field dressing the deer they hauled the animal back to the house; leaving Kumajirou in the forest perfectly happy with his snout buried in the gut pile they left behind. Canada was quiet as they dragged the deer through the woods. America was home more lately, spending fewer nights out late. There was still plenty of grumbling in the colonies about unfair taxes and some sporadic demonstrations, but since the British soldiers had been acquitted of shooting into the mob of rabble that had been harassing them a couple of years ago it seemed as though things might settle down. America quit skipping school and he even managed to pass his exams before the Christmas break. Why was he wearing one of those medallions that the French silversmith had made now?

Canada looked up at America as he hauled two buckets of water from the well. The deer was now dressed and hanging from a tree next to the house. He heard a crack as America used the butt of his hatchet to break the pelvic bone. Kuma trotted out of the woods with one end of the deer's intestines in his mouth, dragging a length of entrails behind him. He dropped it to waddle over and sniff the ground under the deer.

"Stand back." Canada said as he dropped one bucket and splashed the empty cavity of the deer with the other. Bloody water rained down on Kumajirou's head as he licked his chops.

"Let's take the hide to the tanners in town tomorrow. I could use a new pair of shoes." America said, caping the deer's head before skinning it.

Canada dropped the empty bucket and picked up the full one. "The way you keep growing maybe you should get a second pair in the next size up." He doused the deer down again and let the bucket fall, wiping off water that had splashed on his face with his sleeve.

"You're doing a good job keeping up with me." America chuckled as he used his knife to separate the hide from the deer. He stopped skinning long enough to cut the backstraps out of the carcass and added, "You could probably use a new pair yourself."

He handed the tenderloins to Canada, who looked at them and smiled. "Supper?"

"Of course!" America replied, and went back to work pulling the hide off the deer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Both colonies sat in front of the fire, bellies full of fresh venison. Canada sipped at a cup of precious smuggled tea courtesy of the Dutch, while America blew on his mug of coffee. The tea tax was the only British tax left, but the colonies refused to buy any British tea on principle and many had switched to coffee. Canada thought it smelled horrible but America insisted it wasn't that bad and he actually liked it.

"Are you going to read more of that new book by Voltaire?" America asked.

Canada failed at suppressing a loud belch. "Sure." And he slowly pulled out of his chair to fetch the book. "I think I left off where Amazan had just arrived in Batavia and noticed none of the women were flirting with him."

An evil smirk formed on America's face. "Perhaps if he snarled and licked their shoulders they would be more interested."

Canada stopped turning pages and glared at the other colony. "You're never going to let that go are you? Besides Voltaire's talking about the Netherlands, Amazan left the German states already, remember?"

"Fine, whatever, just read already."

Canada cleared his throat and began reading aloud from _The Princess of Babylon_. With Formosanta in hot pursuit, the hero (who for some reason Voltaire made a vegetarian. America patted his tummy full of deer meat and pitied the poor man) traveled to Albion with his unicorns. America made a quip that perhaps that's where England's imaginary unicorn came from but Canada ignored him as he read about Formosanta falling behind again as the hero backtracked the continent so he could go to Rome and then on to Gaul. When the princess caught up with Amazan only to find him in bed with an opera singer, America let out a hoot of laughter, "Those exploding genitals, they'll get ya every time!"

Canada snapped the book shut. "That's it, I'm going to bed."

America drained his mug of coffee. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Come into town with me tomorrow?"

Canada stood up and stared into the fire for a moment. If he went with him there was less chance of America getting into trouble. "Okay, sure. Goodnight."

America watched Canada walk down the dark hallway with the polar bear bringing up the rear. Christmas was coming and America thought that if there was enough leather from the hide left perhaps he could have some new gloves made for a present.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Canada and America left the tanner's shop and walked into the chilly air. Canada pulled the collar of his coat up under his chin to keep out the cold wind and followed America as he made his way through the busy street. There was a crowd standing on the warf at the harbor yelling at the tideman, who yelled back at the men standing there to let him and his workers pass to unload the tea off the ship. This only made the mob yell louder, shaking their fists and hurling curses and threats at the tideman.

A big smile broke across America's face. He grabbed Canada's arm and shouted, "Let's go!"

Canada didn't have a chance to protest as he was dragged into the angry crowd. America joined the others shouting obscenities at the tideman, who started shouting back and waving a piece of parchment in the men's faces that he had orders from the king to unload the tea or else. A few men broke away from the crowd and made their way towards the large elm that America called the 'liberty tree.' One of the men pulled a piece of yellow cloth out of his coat pocket and tied it to a branch of the tree, then the small group left. Canada watched the men walk away and then heard America say, "I'll see you later, I have somewhere I need to be." He trotted off and blended in with the others as they broke away from the mob, but not before Canada saw him reach inside his shirt collar and pull on the ribbon tied around his neck. The silver medallion shimmered in the weak sunlight as he ran up the street toward Faneuil Hall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: The only way we know the Sons of Liberty medals existed today is through written descriptions, none of the medals survived. There were no written records of who was a Son of Liberty obviously, and the patriots had to be wary of spies. Thanks for reading, the next part will be ready soon! (still working on the research!)


	6. Chapter 6

Canada couldn't believe he was sitting there, listening to the stupidest speech ever made. He had seen the title on the sign outside the meetinghouse and curiosity had got the best of him. America had disappeared mid-morning and Canada decided that if he went to town perhaps he would run into him and make sure he stayed out of trouble. The speech was about the medicinal risks of drinking tea, and the speaker was none other than John Adams' personal physician Dr. Young. The crowd in the meetinghouse was so large it was standing room only and the air inside the building was charged with a strange energy, as if everyone sat there not for the speech but for some other event yet to happen that evening. As the doctor filibustered on about the dangers of too much tea in the diet, movement in the windows caught Canada's eye and he turned to look out the window to see what was going on in the growing dusk. Canada gasped when he saw a single file row of Indians marching down the street towards the wharf.

Indians! At first Canada felt panic, as the sight of Indians at one time had meant danger, but then he realized Indians didn't march in rows, and these Indians didn't look very much like Indians. He pushed his way through the crowd and stumbled outside onto the street.

They weren't Indians he realized when he got a closer look. Even in the dim glow of the street lamps it was obvious these were townspeople dressed like Indians. Canada's hackles began to rise however when he started recognizing people from the town – the French silversmith, the old cobbler making his and America's new shoes, Several friends of Samuel Adams and John Hancock, a number of boys from school, and America –

_America? _

It was a cloudy, chilly night, but not as cold as the ice that suddenly raced through Canada's veins when he spotted America, face painted, a feather stuck in his hair and carrying his hatchet marching with the rest of the men as they silently made their way to the three ships anchored in the harbor.

More people began to flood out of the meetinghouse, and Canada understood now the real purpose of Dr. Young's bogus speech. It was crowd management so the men dressed up as Indians wouldn't have a mob to push through to get to the wharf. Canada didn't want to lose sight of America so he trotted after the row of men marching silently down the street.

"America! What are you doing?" Canada yelled at the other colony as he marched in step with the men dressed up like Mohawks. America didn't respond at all, didn't even look at Canada; just looked straight ahead. That strange light was in his eyes again and through his 'war paint' Canada could see the grin that meant he was going to misbehave. Canada hated that grin.

A small group of Mohawks separated from the main group and set up a perimeter on the pier. The other Indians broke up into three groups and got into rowboats. In the distance were the three ships, two had sat in the harbor for weeks while the third, the _Beaver_ had arrived the day before. Beyond those ships was a British Man of War; making sure that the three cargo ships didn't leave before unloading the tea that the people of Boston refused to land. Canada for the first time wondered if England was on board the British ship, and if he was why they weren't doing anything to stop the men rowing out to the ships now.

Canada watched America join the other Indians on the deck of the _Dartmouth_, and the silversmith went below. What happened next made the colony stare in horror and the crowd on the wharf let out a roar of cheers as the Mohawks started bringing the crates of tea on deck, break them open with their hatchets and tomahawks, then dump the contents into the harbor. The wharf took on a festive air; like a carnival was in town and the main attraction was performing in front of them. Hundreds of crates were opened and dumped, and Canada could only wonder as hour after hour of the 'unloading' went on at how much money had just been destroyed as it floated on the water. Once again he looked out at the British naval ship. He could see people standing on deck watching but that was all.

Where was England? Why didn't the British Navy try to stop this from happening?

Finally, the Indians went back into the rowboats and rowed back to the wharf. The people on shore cheered but it quickly turned into angry shouts when it was discovered one of the Mohawks had filled the lining of his coat with tea! Canada watched America and a few other men grab the man and rip his coat off of him. They emptied the tea into the water below, then stripped him of the rest of his clothes and dragged the naked terrified man off to where the tar was kept. When the first screams started Canada had seen and heard enough. He turned and ran as fast as he could trying not to hear the others cheer as they tarred and feathered one of their own.

Canada awoke to hear someone slam the front door, stomp into the common room and drop a load of firewood into the wood box. Kuma growled without opening his eyes and rolled over, nearly pushing Canada out of bed. The colony clung to the edge, blankets up to his chin as he listened to the familiar noises of America making coffee. He hopped out of bed and quickly put on his breeches as his breath made puffs of frozen fog in the chilly air. Opening the bedroom door he found America sitting at the table, the biggest grin on his face. He could still see traces of black soot around his hairline and the feather that had been in his hair was now in his fingers as he twirled it back and forth. He looked up when he saw Canada enter the room. "Good morning!"

Canada stared at the idiot, opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at the fire dancing cheerfully in the fireplace, the sound and smell of boiling coffee filling the room. He opened his mouth again, closed it, then sighed audibly and flung himself into a chair. America leaned over and tickled Canada's chin with the feather. The colony groaned and slapped his hand away. "Don't!"

America laughed softly, "Too late, the deed's done." He smiled at the feather in his fingers then looked back at Canada. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Where is the Man of War?" Canada asked, praying they were still in the harbor.

"Sailed first thing this morning." America replied, "Watched it leave myself, along with the _Beaver, Eleanor_ and _Dartmouth,_ all bound for Nantucket and that Tory bastard Rotch."

Canada closed his eyes and felt his body shudder. Why didn't England come back, didn't he care about the chaos here? "How much tea did you throw into the harbor?" Canada asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"All of it." America answered with a smirk. "45 tons baby! We even swept up the deck and made sure every leaf went into the water."

"How much is 45 tons of tea worth?" Canada wondered if America saw the impending doom coming.

"I think I heard the estimated value was around eighteen thousand sterling." America started to laugh.

Canada thought about the man whom they tarred and feathered. "None of it was landed at all?"

"Wait," America said as he took off his shoe, tapped the toe and held it over the table to empty the contents. A few leaves of tea scattered across the table. "Whoops! I guess some did make it after all, wonder what the tax will be on that!" And he looked Canada in the eyes and laughed hysterically at his joke.

Canada glared back, "We're out of tea you know."

"Time to switch to coffee!" America proclaimed, reaching for his mug and pulling the coffee pot out of the fire. "Tea tastes like shit anyway."

"That's because," A familiar voice said from the doorway, "You're not supposed to mix it with salt water."

Both boys jumped, Canada gasped at the sight of England standing in the open door. America stood up, smiled brightly and exclaimed, "England, welcome back!"

The smile on the country's face faded when he saw how tall America had grown. England closed the door and walked over to the table. He used his fingers to rake up the scattered tea on the surface and accumulated it into a small pile. Sifting through it he looked up at America's grinning face and said, "For this bit, including your cheek, a fair price would be your bloody hide."

"Haven't you taken enough already?" America asked, his smile still on his lips but his eyes growing hard.

"Apparently not. Are the rumors true you've joined the group that leads the rebellion here?"

"What group? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy with me boy. You meet at that damn tree on the corner in town. Everyone knows."

"What tree in town? There are lots of trees in town."

"STOP IT!" Canada cried out, America and England turned to look at the other colony in the room. "Stop lying America! Do you hear yourself? You're lying to England!" He jumped over a chair and pushed America with all his might. America stumbled back a bit and the ribbon under his shirt came into view. Canada reached for it and pulled, snapping the ribbon and grabbing the silver medallion attached to it. He held it up in America's face. "That day we went hunting, I saw it then. How long have you had this?"

America lifted his arm to take the silver medal back but England reached out and snatched it first. He looked at both sides – the arm holding the liberty cap on one side, and the other side showing the liberty tree. Both Canada and America couldn't help but notice the sadness that suddenly showed in his eyes.

"Treason in my own house. How could you boy, how could you?"

"_Your_ House?" America shouted, laughing, "What do you mean your house? Where have you been all these years? It's just been Canada and me here since you left ages ago and in case you haven't noticed, we're doing just fine without you. We can continue doing just fine too. This is _our_ house now!"

Canada and England stared at America, mouths agape England started to speak, rage building but Canada blurted out first, "America! How can you say such a thing, you and I are both England's colonies! And do you have a turd in your pocket, what is this 'we' stuff?"

"You're not England's colony, you're mine." America said, it almost a whisper.

"You dare!" England growled.

"What?" Canada shrieked, "What are you saying?"

America gloated at England's red, angry face. "Back when England and France were negotiating the Treaty of Paris, England had his choice of France's colonies in the new world." America walked over to Canada and put his hands on his shoulders. "I asked England to pick you, because do you know which colony he wanted? A god damned sugar plantation in the Caribbean. I asked him to pick you, because I wanted you."

Canada could only stare at America as he continued. "You're the 14th colony Canada; we're going to be united here. We don't need England anymore, we have each other."

Canada's felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach and told his mother had died at the same time. Angry tears spilled down his face as he shoved America's hands off his shoulders and screamed "You? YOU?" You're the reason I had to leave _mon père?_ You bastard! All those nights I cried, forced to live here because _you_ _wanted_ _me_? He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands, sobbing.

"Canada, please don't cry, we're brothers – "America pleaded.

"NO!" Canada shouted, jumping to his feet and shoving his finger into America's chest. "Hear me right now; we will NEVER be united EVER!"

America fought the tears trying to fill his own eyes. "You're mine; I'll fight for you if I have to."

"_Allez en enfer_." Canada said, as he turned and leaned into the wall, fresh tears running down his face. "I'll get you back for this some day!"

"Right." England said, interrupting the drama between the two colonies. "Canada, pack your things, we'll be leaving shortly."

America looked at England. "You're leaving?"

"Yes." England replied, a look in his eye that made the colony suddenly feel panic as he watched the country put America's Sons of Liberty medallion in his pocket. "You see, it's no longer safe here." He watched Canada disappear down the hall, and then looked back at America. "For anyone."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: I spent over a week researching the Boston Tea Party! I knew the basics but there were many details I didn't know. The list of sources is quite long so if you want to take a look at them just ask.

Benjamin Franklin lived in England when the French and Indian war ended. Franklin wrote a letter to parliament asking them to choose Canada over Guadeloupe, because even though both colonies had the disadvantage of being full of French, at least Canada had lots of land. Also, Franklin owned land in Canada, but I'm sure that had nothing to do with his letter to parliament.


	7. Chapter 7

"Hurry up men! Hoist those guns up there!" Canada heard the commander on the street below bellow up at them as they pulled the last of the three pounders into the second story windows of the building facing the street. The snow was coming in harder now, and the men below were barely visible. They put the last cannon into position and secured it in place. The Artillery men wasted no time loading the guns with grapeshot and getting ready for Montgomery's men making their way up the street in the blizzard.

"We're not going to be able to see anything to shoot at." Canada said, staring into the swirling snow.

The commander walked up to him, still stamping snow from his boots. "We'll let them get nice and close before we fire."

"Montreal fell, what's to stop them here?" Canada tried to not show his fear, but he had been shocked at how ferocious the Americans fought. The Canadians outnumbered them easily, but they were no match for them and were completely unprepared for their attack.

"Don't worry," The commander said, putting a hand on Canada's shoulder, "We're about to give them a taste of hell."

America ran up the street, slipping in the snow and trying not to trip over men who lost their footing and fell in front of him. The snow stung his eyes but Montgomery kept urging them to move forward quickly. He could barely be heard over the howl of the wind, as he led them through the storm. America wasn't sure who had the great idea to attack Quebec on New Years Eve in a blizzard, but there they were

The front columns were just rounding the corner into the next street when America's foot found an icy patch and he went down into the snow. His musket was knocked from his hands and slid into a drift. "Dammit!" He shouted as he scrambled on hands and knees sifting through the snow trying to find it, the rest of the regiment running past him.

America saw the flash of cannon fire before he heard anything. He heard men screaming as they were flung back by the grape shot tearing through them. He saw Montgomery go down, then looked to his side and saw Canada standing only a few meters away in the blood spattered snow. "Canada?" America shouted into the wind. Canada said nothing as a swirl of snow enveloped him and he disappeared. "Canada!" America yelled again, reaching for him, as he heard the thunder of more guns.

America opened his eyes at the sound of pounding close by. He sat up with a start when he realized the pounding came from his own front door. Frowning at the puddle of drool on the table he wiped it up with his sleeve as he rose to answer the door. He flung it open and squinted into the weak winter sunlight glinting off the snow. "Yes?" He growled out gruffly, only able to make out a shadow in his doorway.

"What rude manners Francia, and after all we went through to get here." A warm, cheerful voice said behind the shadow.

"I know, I know my friend, but remember who raised the boy." France replied as he entered the room and looked at America with a kind smile. "How are you America, looking thinner and pale perhaps?"

"He looks like he could use a decent meal." Spain replied, as he set down a basket on the table.

"Not surprising, with that blockade out there." France said, pulling off his gloves and assessing the fireplace. He picked up the poker and stirred the coals, then tossed in a few logs. It didn't take long for flames to appear and begin dancing around the wood. "Now that the room can warm up, let's have lunch."

Spain pulled a large loaf of bread and a bottle of wine out of the basket. He looked at America and smiled, "Do you have a knife to cut this?" America blinked and went to the cupboard to get plates and cups. He handed Spain the knife and watched him cut bread, meat and cheese for all of them. France produced a corkscrew and opened the wine; sniffing at the cork and smiling before setting the bottle back down to allow the wine to breathe. They sat down and after Spain said a brief grace in Spanish, they enjoyed their lunch.

France poured wine for all of them and pulled his chair over so he could sit in front of America. "Now my young friend, tell me your own personal assessment of how the war is going."

America looked into his cup and studied his reflection in the wine. He took another sip then answered, "It's not going well at all. I still want independence, but unless I can get some help or England decides to let me become a country I don't see how I can win."

Spain finished clearing up lunch and sat on the table next to America. "I assure you England will never just give you up and let you become independent."

"But why not?" America asked frowning. "I don't want to be part of England anymore."

"Because that's not England's way." France said, refilling everyone's cup. "And completely not fair."

Spain chuckled into his cup as he took a sip. "That's for damn sure _mi amigo._"

"What do you mean, it's not fair?" America asked, very confused by France's statement.

France studied the boy's face for a moment; he had the brains to realize his predicament was seriously in dire straits, now it was time to see if he could learn to understand how other countries interacted in the world. He would never be recognized as a country until he could. There was no time to lose, he had to learn now or his desire for independence was doomed.

"_M__on chéri_, it's time to educate you about England."

America looked at France confused, "Educate me about England?"

"_Sí," __Spain added, smiling down at the boy. "You know him only as a parent or big brother, now you need to understand him as a country."_

_"We learned history in school." America replied frowning, hoping they didn't mean for him to go to school again, he had to win against England __now__._

Spain and France exchanged looks and both laughed. "_Non_, that's not what we mean. Do you remember that silly proverb from long ago that made you think parts of my anatomy explode?"

America blushed a deep crimson. "I know it doesn't mean that now."

"Umhmm, and what does it mean?"

America looked France in the eye very carefully and said, "It's talking about how different countries behave with each other, is that it?"

His answer made both countries laugh again. Spain slapped America on the back and exclaimed, "Francia, I think there's hope for the boy yet."

America looked down at the floor, his face still red. "Once Canada and I were out walking with him, and we saw a swarm of bees. He told us it was a new queen on her mating flight. Canada started crying and I grabbed a stick and started waving at the swarm, trying to save the drones. He thought we were both mad until I explained we didn't want the poor male bees exploding after mating with the queen." His eyes grew sad, "I miss Canada."

France looked at America for a moment then said, "So do I, but right now we need to focus and deal with more important matters. You need to know what makes England tick; that proverb is just one example. Spain and I are going to educate you very quickly, are you ready?"

America looked at up Spain seated next to him with one hip on the table, then at France seated in front of him. "I'm ready." He stated with a nod.

"Excellent, now, two things you must always remember about England." France took another sip of wine, and then his smile became wicked. "First, he is a mongrel degenerate piece of trash. All of that proper stiff upper lip pip pip duty honor tradition nonsense is just that, nonsense." America couldn't help but blink with surprise at France's sudden acerbic tone as he described his enemy. "Mongrel people, mongrel culture, mongrel language and rulers, everything about that country is nothing but filthy swine wallowing in his own shit."

"It really is disgusting." Spain added, rolling his eyes. "The reason why England is so good at fighting is that's all England ever does. If the people don't have another nation to fight, they fight with each other."

"Usually over who's going to be the next boss of that cold, wet, miserable rock." France continued. "Even England's concept of the divine right of kings is a joke. Being the king's sixth cousin nine times removed's pimple on the scullery maid's left ass cheek puts you in line for the throne in that god forsaken excuse of a country."

"And then, even being the king doesn't mean things get any better for you." Spain said, shaking his head. "Divine right of kings indeed! England doesn't have a clue what that means!"

"I'm sure you've heard of the sport of bear baiting?" France asked.

America made a sour face. "I hate that, it's cruel and makes the animal miserable."

"Indeed it does. Well, in England they have a peculiar sport called king baiting."

Spain snorted into the back of his hand.

"King baiting?" America asked with an incredulous look.

"_Oui_," France answered, "a very popular sport in England; put a sovereign on the throne, and then make his entire reign completely miserable. It's a time-honored institution in England."

America looked at France, very confused, "Who's responsible for this king baiting?" He asked.

Spain laughed at the boy's confusion, "Who else? The parliament! Let me give you an example; you know who King John is right?"

"Sure, he had to sign the Magna Carta." America said.

"That stated in brief that even though he was the king he was an idiot and couldn't be trusted." France added. "Do you understand now?"

America was beginning to see what they meant, but there was still some confusion. "But why? Why would they do this?"

"Because it's only fair, which brings me to the second thing you must always remember about England." France said with a very serious set of his jaw, the sparkle in his eyes the only indication of the humor in his next statement. "There is only one way for England to do anything, and that is the English way, which means the hard way."

"What?" Was all America could manage to say; he was beginning to get a headache.

"Let me give another example, as much as this will pain me." Spain replied. "Some time ago England's navy, which at the time had fewer ships, smaller ships with less guns went to war with my wonderful and great Spanish Armada, yet still managed to win because they did it the English way."

"Which is the hard way." France said.

"And having fewer, smaller ships with less guns and still winning would only be fair." Spain replied.

"England must have a different definition of 'fair' than the rest of the world." America muttered.

"Of course he does, because England must always do everything the English way." France smiled. "Poor England, he must be beside himself right now; he has the superior army, superior navy, superior military commanders and that's just not fair at all."

"_Sí, amigo__,_ how will he do things the English way if he can't be fair about it?"

"He's always been the underdog in every war he's won, and he always wins. Even in wars where the outcome has been in question, he's still the winner somehow."

"Because England did it the English way."

"Which … is the hard way?" America asked.

"_¡Claro que s__í__!"_ Spain laughed.

"So let me get this straight, if I want to beat England, I have to do it the hard way?" America asked, despair beginning to sink in.

"Only if you want to be fair about it." France replied, smiling at the boy's realization that winning this war would be much harder than he imagined.

"If you're here, that means you're going to help me?" The colony asked, trying to grab on to any shred of hope that may exist in the universe at that moment.

"Officially, no." France said. "Our governments at this time cannot declare war on England."

"Please understand America, but no one recognizes you as a sovereign nation." Spain said sympathetically, "My boss, as far as he can tell thinks this is a civil war between Englishmen"

"And to be honest, my boss just plain doesn't think you can win." France said. "So for now, our countries cannot get involved."

"However" Spain added, "That doesn't stop us from privately funding and supplying you with what you need in secret for the time being."

America looked up at Spain, his eyes wide with a new light that perhaps all wasn't lost.

France stood up and put his hand on America's shoulder. "Our governments are watching this war very closely, and they are itching for a chance to take another shot at England, but they can't declare war unless you can show you have even the smallest hope of winning.

"Wh-what do I have to do to show that?" America asked.

Spain replied. "Win a decisive battle."

"And killing drunken Hessians in their sleep on Christmas doesn't count." France continued, "It has to be a real battle, on a real battlefield."

America's face fell, "Oh, most of Washington's army is made up of young men like me; they don't know how to fight like England does. They can do all 184 steps of the Manual of Arms in their sleep."

"They're professional soldiers, that's all they have to do. If your army wasn't made up of farmers and shop apprentices and could spend all day every day drilling they would also be a professional army." France said.

"We can help there too." Spain smiled. "I've seen to it that someone will be coming from Prussia to train Washington's men."

"Really?" America felt like smiling for what seemed like the first time in ages.

"Yes, he's one of the best; he'll whip the continental army into shape." France said, "Just as a precaution though, try not to spend too much time alone with him." Spain looked from France to America and nodded with a far too cheery expression.

America stood up, scratching the back of his head. He gave a shy smile to both countries and said, "Thank you both, for the food and the lesson."

"_De nada_." Spain said.

"You have a lot to learn America, but in time I think you will make a fine country." France said.

America looked at both of them and asked, "Do you have to leave soon? Can you stay for a while? I get lonely here being by myself." He admitted, blushing.

"We can stay for a short while, I believe. L'Espagne, do you have any pressing business?

"I think an extended visit with América would be very nice." Spain agreed.

"Great!" America exclaimed with youthful exuberance.

"It will give us a chance to continue your education." France added, "And now that 30,000 of them infest the place, I think this would be a good time to teach you about the Germanies."

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Author's Note: The Battle of Quebec in the winter of 1775 was incredibly tragic for the Americans. They continued to send delegations to Canada to try and convince them to join in their struggle, but Canada wasn't interested at all. Montgomery's body wasn't found until the following spring when the snow melted.

My inspiration for America's 'education' came from a very funny book, _The Boomer Bible._ As always, hope you enjoy reading this!


	8. Chapter 8

"Spain you idiot, why did you invite England here?" Romano spat out as he entered the courtyard where Spain and France were enjoying some chilled sherry and the warm afternoon sun.

Spain and France looked at each other. "I didn't." Spain replied, "But since he's here, show him in."

"And what do I do with the other one?" Romano asked with a sneer.

"Where is he now?" France asked.

"In the kitchen eating all the _tapas_ you jerk. The way he eats you think the bastard's never seen food before." He grumbled as he stormed back into the house.

"Well, considering he's lived with England most of his life, he really hasn't." Spain chuckled.

France studied the sunlight through his glass of sherry, "Looks like England's got wind of our efforts in the colonies."

"Or just a lot of wind, you know he's going to walk in here screaming at us." Spain said.

France smiled, "He wouldn't be England if he did otherwise."

"Did I hear England's here?" Prussia asked as he walked onto the patio from the courtyard garden, empty sherry glass in hand.

France couldn't help but laugh, "Are you sure you want him to know you're here? You're supposed to not be involved you know."

"What, and miss ole piss and vinegar's face when he sees me? I just can't deprive myself of the pleasure." Prussia answered, refilling his glass before finding a comfortable seat in the shadow of a small palm tree.

Romano reappeared, jerking his thumb in the direction of the other countries. "They're over there," He muttered and watched England walk through the doorway with an angry frown on his face.

"_Bienvenidos __Inglaterra."_ Spain said, standing to greet his new guest. "May I interest you in a glass of sherry? We're about to enjoy some _tapas_." Spain said, looking over at Romano.

"Sure, if there's anything left." He muttered, rolling his eyes as he stepped back into the house.

"Hullo Spain, France." England answered, executing a proper bow to the countries, Spain returned the gesture. France remained in his seat, but lifted his glass towards his old enemy.

Prussia stood from where he sat in the shadows, and also bowed. "Enjoying the warm weather England?" His smile growing when he saw the look of shock England couldn't stop from appearing on his face.

"Prussia!" England blurted out, "This is a surprise."

Prussia laughed then sipped his sherry, "I'm sure it is."

Romano appeared carrying platters of olives and cheese. He dropped them on the table, making a few olives roll off the plate onto the floor, then glared at Spain, "Will that be all boss?"

"Yes Romano, for now," Spain answered, walking up to him to whisper in his ear, "Give us about fifteen minutes, and then show our guest in."

"Great, I can finally get him out of my hair." Romano spat out before stalking away.

Spain returned to the others, poured England a glass of sherry and smiled at the flustered country, "Are you here on business or pleasure _señor_?"

England took the glass, noticing when Spain said 'pleasure' France looked England up and down with a wicked twinkle in his eye before sipping at his own sherry. Prussia busied himself with popping a plump, green _manzanilla_ olive stuffed with an anchovy in his mouth and closed his eyes, a soft "mmmm" could be heard as he slowly savored it. England cleared his throat, and blushed when his voice came out too high pitched, "I'm here on business of course. I've come to ask of you a small favor."

Spain's expressive green eyes grew large, "OOOOHH? You need a favor from me?" He exchanged looks with France, who also stared at England with eyes wide open. Prussia pulled his chair closer and sat, crossing his legs and weaving his fingers behind his head.

England looked down at the circular brick layout under his feet. "Aye, as you are aware, my colony America has been disobedient and rebellious. I'm working on disciplining him at this time, and I must ask you to not interfere."

France bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Prussia remained silent as he looked up at the sky. Spain's lower jaw dropped slightly as he stared at England, then the smile returned as he replied. "The utter impudence _Inglaterra_. I am surprised at you."

England frowned, "Impudence? How can you say that?"

"How can you stand there and ask me such a thing? When my people in the Spanish Netherlands rebelled against me you not only gave them weapons and munitions, but sent an army and a fleet of ships to attack me as well? Weren't you interfering there by helping them, hmm? You don't actually expect me to honor such a request, after what you've done to me?"

England opened his mouth to speak, but France just then loudly smacked his lips and sensuously licked the olive brine off his fingers. "So salty," he softly murmured, then reached for another one. England couldn't stop himself from staring at France as he wrapped his lips around the olive and sucked the tiny red pimento out as loudly as possible, his eyes looking deeply into England's as he stuck the tip of his tongue into the now vacant hole in the olive before putting it in his mouth and chewing it slowly. "They're really delicious, you should try one." France said, looking up at England.

"Perhaps in a moment," England said, swallowing hard, "I have the same request for you France."

"Really," France said. Prussia sat forward, put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. He looked back and forth between France and England knowing he soon wouldn't be disappointed by France's response to England's request. Spain became very interested in the piece of cheese he held in his hand, but also watched carefully.

France drained his glass of sherry, and set it down on the table. "Where do I begin enemy mine. When the Hugenots rebelled against me at Rochelle you provided them with ships and arms. I also know you've been secretly helping Corsica rebel against me, and at this very moment been paying the boss there to be ready to rebel again, should it be to _your_ advantage for them to do so. Where do you get the gall, the nerve, the _balls_ to ask such a thing of me?"

England glared at France. Spain and Prussia exchanged looks while France refilled everyone's glasses, returning England's withering look. Footsteps echoed in the house coming closer to the doorway. "Ah, here comes our guest of honor now." Spain said, standing. The other countries stood to greet the newcomer. England turned in time to see Romano lead America into the courtyard. His glass of sherry hit the patio floor, shards of glass scattering over the bricks.

"God damn it just what I need you asshole!" Romano yelled, stomping away to fetch a broom. America stopped when he saw England standing there, mouth agape, face turning bright red.

"_You!"_ England growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was invited." America said calmly. "Spain thought I could use a holiday someplace warm." France and Spain looked at each other; pride showing at how the colony was behaving himself in what would otherwise be a very awkward situation.

France brought America a glass of sherry, "What do you think of Spain so far?"

"I like it very much," America answered, taking a sip of the chilled wine, "Tomorrow Spain is taking me to a bullfight."

"That will be exciting," France said. Romano returned and began sweeping the glass off the floor with angry swipes.

"Would you care for some _tapas_?" Spain asked America, picking up the platter of olives to offer him.

"Oh no thanks, I don't think I can eat another bite. Romano's been feeding me non-stop for the better part of an hour now. He said he liked to watch me eat."

"Shut the hell up you idiot!" Romano bellowed as he stood up with the broom and dustpan and stomped away again. America watched him leave with a smirk, which quickly disappeared when Prussia came up and gave him a big bear hug.

"America my boy I haven't seen you in ages!" He said, stepping back with his hands on the colony's shoulders. "You certainly have filled out haven't you? I see you're no worse for wear despite von Steuben's best efforts. He didn't manhandle you too much did he?"

America blushed but smiled at Prussia, "No sir, nothing I couldn't handle."

Prussia threw back his head and laughed, "Oh I bet!"

"Bloody hell," England said.

Everyone stopped and looked at England. The country stared at America, whom he hadn't seen since the day he had taken Canada away to punish him for the tea. Prussia was right; he had filled out _and_ grown taller. Seeing him stand there, looking confident and having the other countries treat him as an equal irritated him. It was time to remind America he was _his_ colony.

"Of all the nerve, how dare you stand here as if you've done nothing wrong _and_ as if you're an independent country you ungrateful brat! I've provided everything for you at my own expense and defended you from your enemies when you were too young to defend yourself and now you come crawling to our enemies begging for help to rebel against me! Surrender now or I will cut you to pieces!"

America stared down at England, and for a moment he was surprised to be looking down at the top of his head. He let it pass quickly however as the words England spoke sank in. "You're just an old bully."

Shock clearly showed on England's face as he stared at America, the other three countries all caught their breath collectively. America realized all eyes were on him as he cleared his throat and continued. "I've heard what you've been saying, defaming me with names like … what was the one I heard … oh yes, poltroon! How I'm a weak, cowardly good for nothing and you only need a single regiment to march all over me. If this were true, why have you paid thirty thousand Hessians to fight in the colonies? Do you see me running all over the Germanies begging them not to help you? If you want me naked and unarmed on the battlefield then have the stones to do the same before you fall on me to murder me in cold blood and prove you're not a coward yourself."

England stood silently, staring at America as he continued. "As for the colonies being created at your own expense, that's simply not true, your own government records even say so. The colonists paid out of pocket for all of it, and owed nothing to you ever. As for defending me from my enemies, the only enemies I've ever had were the elements and hostile natives. The only time you've been in my country to fight anyone have been your enemies not mine, but that's never stopped you from insisting the colonists help you fight them. _Your_ enemies not mine!"

"You treasonous bastard! I am your mother country; you owe your respect and obedience!" England shouted, "My title –"

"Hold on, are you sure you want to use that analogy here?" Prussia said, coming forward to stand between England and America, pushing them both back to make room. He grinned wickedly at America and gave him a wink, before settling his eyes on England. "As I recall, your mother country is Saxony, and it wasn't very long ago at all that you hired some really nasty jerk to go there, play highwayman, grab some money then burn down Dresden! Who was that asshole … " Prussia trailed off, looking at America's incredulous face, then Spain and France who were both trying very hard to not burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, that's right … that was me!"

Spain and France couldn't contain themselves any longer and both fell down in their chairs laughing. England glared at Prussia as he brushed his hand off his shoulder, then returned his gaze to America, who was smirking at him, _smirking!_

England did his best to give America a withering look, then spoke. "As I was saying, you owe me your allegiance. This is your last chance boy, what will it be?"

"My liberty or my life," America said without hesitation.

A menacing smile played across England's lips, "Fine, if that's the way you want it."

"It is," America replied, also smiling. He looked deeply into England's green eyes, then suddenly grabbed England's face with both of his hands and kissed him on the lips. England eyes flew open and he pushed America off with all his might, the colony stumbled back into the table laughing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Wha- what the fuck was that for?" England gasped, his body shook with rage.

"Just some advice France gave me many years ago, I thought I would give it at try." America answered him, a bright blush on his cheeks now.

Without another word England walked back through the door into the house. The last thing he heard from the courtyard as he walked away was France asking in a loud voice, "So, did you enjoy it?"

England traced his way back through the cool, dark corridor until he found the exit out of the insane asylum Spain called home. He reached to open the door, then emotion overcame him and he collapsed on a small bench. Prussia caught up with him in time to see him holding his face in his hands and shaking.

Prussia sat down next to him and asked "Do you know where you went wrong with him?"

"Shut the hell up." England spat out, wiping his eyes.

Prussia smiled, "That's what I figured. You went wrong with him by leaving him alone too much, and indulging him when you were with him. He has no sense of duty, discipline, or respect. He's going to be a handful no matter what now, and you're not the only one he's going to make life hell for."

"You think you could do any better?"

Prussia lifted an eyebrow at England's question, "I don't know if I could do better, but I know I would do it very differently. Look if America loses this war – "

"WHEN he loses this war!"

"Fine, when he loses this war he can come crawling back to you and you can torture him all you want. For now, as long as he's showing promise and those two idiots think they're going to get something out of him when it's over you're going to look like a big jerk. Even my boss isn't too happy with you, paying all those mercenaries from the Germanies to fight for you."

"Since when have I ever cared whether I looked like a big jerk or not?"

"Never, that I can recall." Prussia answered, looking into England's troubled face. "I have one last question for you."

"What." England said dully.

"Did you enjoy it?"

England's look of disgust was the last thing Prussia saw as the other country opened the door and slammed it forcefully behind him. He grinned all the way back to the courtyard to join the others in a congratulatory toast for America.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: I'm having way too much fun reading Benjamin Franklin.

Hope you enjoy reading this, don't feel shy telling me what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

"…_O'er the wasted fields and dreary plains, in silent horror desolation reigns."_

Thomas Day – _The Desolation of America_

It was turning into another damp, sticky night. Haze still obscured the hills into the diminishing purples, blues and grays that gave the mountains their name. America decided to go lay down for a while in his tent away from the campfires sending up more smoke and heat, even if it meant sticking to the sweaty bedroll. He added his rifle to the tripod of guns next to the tent that also served as a place to hang hats and cartridge boxes, and then stooped slightly to walk inside.

He dropped on top of his bedroll and lay there, staring at the center pole that held the wedge shape of the tent, listening to the sounds of the camp. Someone played a fiddle, and camp followers giggled at the men flirting with them; there was still plenty of grumbling too. America thought about the troops that had already mutinied and deserted, hoping there weren't more planning to do the same. It wasn't the army's fault supplies were low and congress hadn't paid them.

A figure darkened the triangle of light made by the open flap of the tent. America looked to see whom it was, when a voice said, "You know, for a military camp it sure is easy to get through your pickets."

America sprang to his feet dagger in hand and landed on the other man. He dug his knee into the stranger's stomach, making him groan while he tried to break his wrist free of the iron grip that kept him from burying the knife between his ribs. Suddenly, a large black nose and rows of large, sharp teeth were in his face, and if the growl wasn't enough to scare him to death, the animal's breath was.

"Get off me dumbass." Canada muttered and sat up rubbing his stomach. The next instant he found himself wrapped up in a rib-cracking hug. "Damn it I said get off me!"

"It's so good to see you!" America whispered, giving Canada another squeeze before releasing him.

"Really, you were trying to bury a knife in me five seconds ago." Canada frowned, rubbing his neck. He stood glaring at America's grinning face, "England's right about you being taller."

"Yeah, I saw him in Europe."

"I heard all about it." Canada said, "Did you really kiss him?"

America nodded, "Uh huh."

"What possessed you to do something like that?"

"France."

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit, it's something he said to me a long time ago. 'It's better to kiss a knave than be troubled with him.'"

"That doesn't mean you actually kiss him you idiot!" Canada shouted, his frown growing deeper. "He's been impossible since then, one minute in hysterics, the next raging about how he's going to slowly rip you apart piece by piece. He locks himself in his secret room every night chanting for hours. He's turning into a lunatic."

"Waddya mean turning?" America asked, trying to stifle a fit of laughter. "As for ripping me apart, he has to catch me first."

"You can't play cat and mouse with the British army forever."

"Oh I don't know, it's working so far. Seeing lots of lovely country too."

Canada rolled his eyes, "And how many colonies –"

"States!" America interjected, frowning.

"Whatever, how many states so far has Greene played 'catch me if you can' with Cornwallis?"

America looked at Canada, narrowing his eyes, "You know I can't tell you that."

Canada studied America for a moment, then said, "Fine, then don't tell me."

"I won't." America answered.

Two soldiers wandered past talking. Canada looked worried for a moment but the men continued on. "Is there someplace we could go talk alone? I'm not comfortable here."

"What, a young man in civilian clothes of obvious English design with a polar bear following him around in North Carolina? You don't feel conspicuous do you?"

Canada glared, "Please? I brought something to eat."

Why didn't you mention you had food in the first place?" America glared back, and then broke into a grin. "C'mon," he said as he put his hat on his head and grabbed his rifle.

They wandered into the woods for a bit, then stopped at the bank of a small river. A large flat rock jutted into the water and America sat down Indian style and smiled up at Canada, "Will this work?" He asked.

"It should be fine." Canada said, joining America on the rock and pulling his haversack off of his shoulder. He reached in and pulled out some cheese, bread, and two apples, and set them on the rock. Kumajirou waddled onto the rock, then jumped into the water.

"How much daylight do we have left?" Canada asked, offering half the loaf of bread and a thick wedge of cheese to America.

"About an hour." America mumbled through the food he crammed into his mouth. They both were quiet while they ate, watching the water lazily pass by. Kuma appeared from downstream with a fish in his mouth and held it down with one paw to keep it from flapping while he bit its head off.

Canada wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked at America, who had laid back on the rock looking up at the sky while he ate his apple. "Remember when I used to read after dinner?"

"Yeah, I always liked that time of day." America said, tossing his apple core into the water.

"Well, I found something I wanted to read to you." Canada said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out several pieces of paper. "It's a poem by Thomas Day."

"The abolitionist?" America mused.

"The same." Canada said, and began to read.

America watched the clouds float overhead, turning yellow, then orange from the setting sun. Canada's steady voice as he read the disquieting words created a strange contrast that America just couldn't settle into like he had when they would sit in front of the fire in the past. The poem was disturbing, especially since it was supposed to describe _him_. Canada finished the last verse and looked at America, the emotion of the poem in his eyes.

America looked back at Canada frowning, "So, according to Thomas Day I'm a delicate, innocent virgin being raped by England, who's a bloody thirsty demon-like creature? I really don't know how to take that."

"The way you should take it moron is that there's sympathy for you among the English people." Canada blurted out, exasperated. "It's not meant as a slight on your manhood or anything like that, just your innocence."

America laughed, "My innocence huh."

"Well you still are aren't you? Canada asked, standing up and stuffing the poem back into his pocket.

America looked up at him, "Am I what?" He said with a smile.

The blush on Canada's face was clearly visible even in the fading light, "You know!"

America sat up and laughed, "Are you?"

"Don't answer a question with another question!" Canada said, his face turning a deeper red. "Never mind!" He bent down and picked up his haversack, slinging it over his shoulder. "Let's start walking back before it's completely dark."

"Fine." America said, springing to his feet. "But why did you ask me that"

Canada turned and looked at America, "When I heard who you were with in Europe, I got worried. England's filled me with horror stories about France."

America cocked an eyebrow at Canada, "Jealous much?"

Canada looked at him with disgust and stomped into the woods.

"I'm sorry Canada!" America called out as he ran to catch up with him. "I'm sorry that was rude of me."

"I'm sorry too. I was shocked when I heard he agreed to help you."

America smiled, "If it makes you feel better, I'm a little better educated about these other countries, but except for England they haven't done me any damage." America began to make his way through the dark woods. "Besides, France isn't the only perverted one."

"What do you mean by that?" Canada asked inquisitively.

"Well, Prussia for starters."

"Prussia? He always seems so disciplined."

America chuckled, "Berlin is full of warm brothers. Do you know who they are?"

Canada was silent. When he did speak the embarrassment was clear in his voice. "Yes I do actually. Why does King Frederick allow it?"

"Why do you think?" America asked looking at Canada's shadow as he walked.

Behind them Kumajirou groaned.

"And as for England," America went on, "Ask him about the Hellfire Club some time." He could see the light from the campfires and the rows of tents through the trees. Canada stopped before they reached the edge and stayed in the dark.

"I wanted to talk about a couple more things before I go." Canada said. Sitting in the grass already damp with dew. America joined him and sat quietly waiting for the other colony to speak. Canada looked at the ground for a moment before raising his eyes to meet America's. "Remember a while ago when I asked you how long you were going to play cat and mouse with the British army?"

"And I told you already I won't talk about that with you." America said. As much as he cared – no loved Canada like a brother, he was still living with the enemy.

Canada's gaze never left America's, "You don't have to, I already know. So does England by the way."

America stared at Canada, and then he jumped to his feet and grabbed him by his shirt collar, dragging him up with him. "How does he know that, tell me now!"

"I don't know!" Canada shouted, "I just know it's someone high enough up in the chain of command; he knows Washington's every move."

America had that look in his blue eyes that at one time had made Canada terrified to be around him. "How long?" He growled menacingly.

Canada swallowed before answering. "About a year now. Look America, people are getting upset with what's going on. The old guard in parliament is very unpopular now; some are demanding Lord North resign if this isn't over soon. It's costing England way too much money and now that France and Spain declared war its spreading England too thin. This can't keep up much longer."

America let Canada go and looked at him with hard, angry eyes. "Good." He turned and walked in the direction of his tent.

"America." Canada said.

He stopped moving but didn't turn around. "What."

"I read that collection of articles your congress wrote for the new government. Take out article eleven, it's never going to happen."

Without looking back, America disappeared into the black triangle of the tent opening. Canada sighed, then turned and went back into the trees and the dark before anyone saw him standing there. Kumajirou muttered "bastard" under his breath as he followed behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: Within weeks of each other in the fall of 1780, a British spy was captured with a letter written by Benedict Arnold for General Cornwallis. General Greene replaced General Gage in South Carolina and then literally played 'catch me if you can' with Cornwallis across three states from October 1780 to August 1781. Cornwallis limped his exhausted and starving army to Yorktown, Virginia to wait for the British navy to rescue them.

Although the US Constitution replaced the original Articles of Confederation they were never officially eliminated. Legislation passed under the Articles is still in effect today so Article 11 is still valid, which means the invitation still stands :]


	10. Chapter 10

"Now there's a saucy vixen."

France directed America's attention to the trio of females giggling and waving their fans in front of their faces. "Which one's the saucy vixen?" America asked

"Does it matter?" France grinned up at the boy. Would he ever stop growing? "How much money do you have?"

"None, "America answered, "Is that a problem?"

"In situations like this, it's an utter calamity." France said, pulling a small purse out of his pocket. He counted out half a dozen silver coins and put them in America's hand. "Always have a little money with you; not too much, or the lady might have friends waiting to rob you. Men in uniform are irresistible and it never hurts to have some money to spend. Nothing too expensive of course, candy or inexpensive but necessary items that make life during wartime bearable, and the lady's more obliging to want to be with you.

"So, having money to buy girls things so they want to spend time with you is a part of war?"

"_Absolument."_ France laughed. "There's more to war than fighting and killing."

America blushed when the pretty redhead in the group winked at him. "I had no idea, war's more complicated than I thought."

"I think the vixen likes you. Time to put that money to good use _mon cher_."

America suddenly felt scared, "What do I do France?"

France turned and smiled, "You like to fish right?"

"Sure I do!" America answered grinning.

"Alright then, think of this as a new way to fish. I call it 'trolling for yoni' and it's time to set your hook."

The weeks since France had joined America in the war against England had been the most educational and enjoyable America could remember in a long time. France had immediately taken on the role of big brother and began teaching America about the finer points of warfare that were just as important as drilling, how to fire a weapon and marching. When they were relieved from duty they spent their time in more fun pursuits; such as enjoying the company of local ladies.

America found himself with time to spend with France thanks to recently being moved up the ranks to lieutenant. He received the field commission after the battle of Green Spring, when Lafayette tried to attack what he thought was a small detachment of Cornwallis' men, only to find his entire army in hiding. The continentals were cut off from escape when the order for a bayonet charge was called. At first it looked as though the British line would hold, but America had run forward and run the officer leading the British resistance through with his bayonet, and the rest of the line caved.

He now wore an officer's uniform, complete with a navy blue coat with red facings. Since they were in Virginia, the only uniforms available were the southern; continentals from the north wore white facings on their dark blue coats. America didn't mind, it meant he got to spend more time with France.

It was dark by the time they made their way back to camp. It became obvious something had happened by the charged atmosphere among the troops. "We need to get to headquarters." France said. They both ran through the rows of tents until they came to the small farmhouse being used by the commanders.

They arrived at the doorway of the house and found a fellow officer standing there. He turned to see who was coming out of the dark and smiled at them. "Washington's on his way here." He said.

The officer's words stopped both countries in their tracks. "What happened with the attack on New York?" France asked. Behind him America's eyes grew wide at the news.

"That's what Washington wanted everyone to think. Now he and Rochambeau are on their way here. Left a few soldiers to protest Congress demanding a months pay. They even paid them to make it look good! But now DeGrasse has Cornwallis and the Brits cut off from their escape route out of York by sea, we're going to cut them off by land."

"What is Cornwallis doing?" France asked.

"Building fortifications around the town and waiting."

"This is wonderful!" France exclaimed, turning to look at America. "Do you know what this means?"

America had a slight smile on his face, "That the war could be over?"

"_Oui!"_ France couldn't hide his excitement.

"It's true," the young officer in the doorway, said. "And now that Spain has cleared the Gulf coast of England's navy, and France's navy has cut off Cornwallis here, the fight should go out of England pretty quick."

A wicked smirk flickered across France's face, "Interesting choice of words."

The way France spoke made America blush.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You must have patience America, a siege is a very different type of battle." France tried to comfort him, but he could see the young nation was irritated with the time they had already spent waiting.

"But all we do is dig dig dig and haul guns while England shoots at us!" America pouted. They'd been there for weeks spending every day building trenches to move supplies and get closer to the fortifications England had built around the town. Every day while they dug in the early autumn Virginia sunlight bullets whizzed over their heads. Impatient with the progress, America had grabbed a shovel, stripped to the waist and joined his men, hoping another pair of hands would make the work go faster.

"Let them shoot, they're using up their ammunition with no chance of being resupplied. The trenches are necessary to move men closer to the redoubts. Don't worry, we are almost ready, and then the real fun begins." France couldn't help but admire how tanned America had become. "And the work is helping you keep fit I might add."

America frowned at France, who was almost leering at him. "You're as bad as von Steuben, you know that?"

"If I were as bad as von Steuben I would have stopped treating you like a little brother a long time ago!" France laughed.

America dumped some water on a clean rag and wiped his sweaty neck. "Oh so there's a time limit on how long you behave yourself?"

Before France could retort a rider cantered up to them and shouted, "Washington's ready, we begin at five o'clock tonight!" As he rode away France stood and said, "It looks as though the waiting is over."

America finished washing up and grabbed his shirt. "About time! We need to get to Washington.

"_Non,_ America this is where we part ways, I to the left with Rochambeau and you to the right. If all goes well God willing we will meet in the middle soon."

America shrugged into his shirt and faced France, extending his hand. "Thank you, for everything you've done. I wish Spain were here too so I could shake his hand."

"You will get your chance." France said, accepting America's hand and giving it a firm shake. _"Au Revoir!"_ He said, waving as he walked away to join the French forces. America finished dressing, grabbed his sidearm and ran in the direction of Washington.

America joined the other officers standing with Washington next to the first of the long line of cannons waiting and ready; artillerymen stood ready next to their guns. America listened as Washington ordered the artillery to fire all night long non-stop, so the British didn't have a chance to make repairs in the dark. As the young country listened to Washington speak, he couldn't help but admire the very tall man and the devotion everyone gave him. France always like to tease America for growing tall, but George Washington would always be the tallest man in the room, and not just physically.

One of the artillerymen walked up and handed Washington a linstock. General Washington fired the first cannon; the officers raised their hats and cheered.

England scowled in between sips of tepid, weak tea. It was already five o'clock and they had only been served tea 20 minutes earlier. He rattled the teacup on the saucer and dropped it on the table. "I say, this is abysmal."

"They cut the rations again." Another officer murmured, in between bites of stale biscuit.

"I realize this is war, and they cut the rations again, but they could at least have the decency to serve it on time!" England's scowl deepened. "We need to maintain some semblance of civilized society, even if we are in Virginia."

Another officer shook his head. "It really is scandalous how bad things are getting, soon we won't even have tea to drink for tea."

"At least Washington and Rochambeau have been quiet most of the day."

England glared at the idiot who spoke, the other officers also looked up at each other, holding teacups in mid air. The familiar whistle was faint at first, but only one thing made a noise like that in wartime.

"Hit the deck!" England screamed as the cannonball crashed through the wall and splintered the table into matchsticks. The men dove in any direction they could for cover as the cannonball exploded and sent shrapnel in all directions. Outside men shouted in alarm as they scrambled to defend themselves from the constant onslaught that came from opposite directions.

England coughed in the smoke as he stood up surrounded by the mess that had once been a comfortable dining room. The officer who had spoke right before they were hit was lying on the floor bleeding badly. The rest of the officers got up and ran to get out of the burning room before it was hit again.

Outside officers barked orders at the men as they grabbed everything they could and ran for shelter. England grabbed one officer by the arm and shouted, "Get everyone in the trenches now! We need to refortify redoubts nine and ten before morning to keep them from advancing on the city! Do it now!"

The officer ran off to carry out England's orders. England's angry eyes stared in the direction he knew the Americans were holding and watched another cannonball come in fast and close. It crashed in through the window that had once been his quarters and raised the roof, sending shingles and glass into the street below. England ducked and covered his face inside his arm, then lowered it to look out again into the advancing dusk and the fires of the American artillery in the distance. "Bloody hell, no civilized society at all."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Haha! You missed!" America shouted at France. As the artillerymen loaded another round into the smoking cannon.

"_Merde!"_ France swore, shouting in angry French at the men to take better aim.

The American cannon fired, and a cheer went out as the bricks of the chimney they had been taking target practice on disintegrated into dust.

America and the artillerymen cheered, "Beat that one!" America laughed, pounding the fireman on the back.

"Fine, FINE!" France shouted back, grinning madly as his eyes scoured what was left of the town; "The house on the left, second story, the window on the right, has one pane of glass left!"

"I see it!" America said and both countries' artilleries moved quickly to reload and prepare to fire. Just as France had promised, once the combined efforts of the French and Americans fought to beat back the English on redoubts nine and ten, they had met at the middle. When America had seen France standing there smiling at him he swept him up in a bear hug so tight the other country's face turned red from lack of air. They had moved artillery onto the captured fortifications and aimed them at the town; now laying cannon fire from three directions and just about putting the town in ruins. The French and American artilleries were having a friendly competition to take out the last of England's defenses.

France was about to give the order to fire when movement at the pulverized fortification gate surrounding the town opened. A single English officer waving a white handkerchief came into view. "Hold on France!" America shouted, holding up his hand to stop him from lighting the powder.

France looked up and saw the officer walking slowly towards them, waving the handkerchief frantically as he stumbled. "It's over." He said.

America looked at France, and then looked down at the man shouting up at them that he had a message to deliver to General Washington.

"America, this honor is yours. Blindfold the man and take him to Washington immediately."

France smiled at America's open expression – shock, joy – as he jumped up and ran down to the Redcoat standing there. He pulled the handkerchief out of the man's shaking hand and tied it over his face, then led him in the direction of Washington's headquarters.

Looking out over the remains of the wall, England caught his breath when he saw America run out and blindfold the officer, then lead him away. He couldn't stop the sob that escaped from his throat as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He raised the whiskey bottle to his lips, and then realized it was already empty. England swore and threw it on the ground, then walked over to the wooden box the men had found in the cellar of a leveled tavern and grabbed a full one. He slid down against the wall and pulled out the cork, pleading eyes looking up to heaven.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had stood there for hours, staring at each other waiting for Cornwallis to appear and lead his troops out to officially surrender. France had taken the opportunity to make funny faces at America, who has just about bitten through his bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. His eyes pleaded with France for relief, but the other country's eyes danced as he went cross-eyed, watching America's face turn bright red. A drum was heard and everyone snapped back to attention. The gate opened wide and the invincible British army marched out to formally surrender.

Their uniforms were clean, but America still couldn't stop himself from looking at France in shock when he saw the men come out. Some didn't bother to march in formation, just strolled casually along. Some men were weeping openly, and others stumbled as if they were drunk. When America caught sight of England, his eyes grew wide as he saw him march, or stumble more like, towards him. He looked straight ahead, but it was obvious he was incredibly drunk. At one point he had to reach out and grab the shoulder of the soldier marching next to him and America realized that it was then England had seen him standing there. He kept marching/stumbling as he went past, looking straight ahead. America watched him move away not sure what emotion he felt at that moment.

Then he heard the tune the fifers played as the redcoats made their way to the field designated to ground arms. It was a song England had taught him and Canada when they were both little:

If buttercups buzz'd after the bee,  
If boats were on land, churches on sea,  
If ponies rode men and if grass ate the cows,  
And cats should be chased into holes by the mouse,  
If the mamas sold their babies  
To the gypsies for half a crown;  
If summer were spring and the other way round,  
Then all the world would be upside down.

America felt himself transported far away and he suddenly felt very small again. He could hear Canada's laughter at the silly words as England sang them; could feel the pull of his arms as he spun them both around in time with the tempo of the song.

Suddenly he was snapped back to the present when he heard the angry shouts of the British commander as he came forward telling the men to ground their arms properly. America saw a few men continue to violently toss their muskets on the pile as if trying to break them, but after that the men began laying them down properly again before returning to their lazy formations and marching back towards town. When England reached the point to ground arms, he unsheathed his sword, held it in his hand for a few moments, swaying considerably back and forth, before casually tossing it down as if he were throwing trash onto a midden. He began his drunken meandering back, passing America by again without making eye contact, except this time there were tears streaming down his face. America made eye contact with France, who looked very cheerful as he winked at the younger country.

The French and American armies were dismissed and they broke formation. France walked forward and put his hand on America's shoulder. "He's three sheets to the wind my friend, don't let his tears bother you too much, besides you haven't been fair about any of this."

"I haven't been fair?" America asked, an incredulous look on his face.

"_Oui,_ you silly boy, I told you this once before, you're supposed to let England win because that is only fair."

America smirked at France, then watched as the last of the redcoats disappeared behind the decimated fortification walls to their new prison camp. "We outnumbered him two to one, he had his chance."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: It's tradition and not historical fact that the song the British drum and fifers played when they surrendered at Yorktown was "The World Turned Upside Down." I found one eyewitness account that said the song they played was very sad and mournful.

I read five different eyewitness accounts of the siege of Yorktown, and they all told a very interesting story. One man remarked about how the British grounded their arms as if trying to break them, and how they were very unprofessional and unsolder like. Another young man named Benedict Gilbert wrote letters to his parents and to his friend who was also serving in the continental army at the time. The letter home complained about the lack of money to buy things like shoes and stockings, and the letter to his friend complained about the lack of money to entertain girls with. Yes, towards the end of the siege when Cornwallis was out of options the French and Americans actually had some good-natured competitive target practice with the artillery.


	11. Chapter 11

America stood in the large window staring at the rain falling on the streets of Paris; watching people scurry and slip on the cobblestones as they ran to find someplace dry and wait out the squall. The unsettled weather outdoors matched the storminess in America's head. Why did they think he started fighting with England in the first place?

Behind him, France sat with legs crossed; the set of his jaw was firm, but the twinkle in his blue eyes confused America to whether he was amused or annoyed. "You can't go to a peace treaty negotiation without a list of demands America, its how these things are done."

"But if I'm not recognized as an independent nation there's no point in negotiating anything else!" America shouted back.

Spain sat across from France, elbows resting on his knees, palms together as if he were praying, his forehead resting on his fingertips. He raised his eyes to heaven and murmured, _"Dios mio."_

"Don't raise your voice to me like that." France said irritably. "You could queer the whole deal and then we go back to fighting, is that what you want?"

America looked at France, frowning, "Independence from England is the only thing I wanted."

"Of course of course but what about territorial boundaries, what about prisoner exchanges, what about trade and free travel rights, how will your war debt be paid off, when does this all go into effect? All of those things must be negotiated or you will end up back in another war in no time."

America looked at France hard for a moment, "If that's the case, why bother having a peace treaty at all? You go back to war with England all the time."

France and Spain exchanged glances, and laughed out loud at the young country's observation. _"Oui,_ America, I admit I do love to fight with England, but we are neighbors, and we have a long history of conquering each other, invading each other … you could say it's how we show our mutual affection."

Spain gave France a look of sheer disgust and coughed. "I thought you said we were going to have a serious talk with the boy."

America returned to the chair he had abruptly vacated when France and Spain had begun discussing the peace treaty with him. "You could always marry England if you love him so much France, wouldn't that be easier than getting into wars with him all the time?"

It was Spain's turn to laugh at France's look of disgust as America grinned wickedly at him. "That would be a marriage to pray for an early death now wouldn't it amigo!" He turned to America and continued, "Please understand America, England lost this war, and England never loses. Do you realize what you've done? You gave that _hijo de puta_ a black eye and made him see he isn't invincible. For the first time, he will have to make concessions to us."

America sat back, thinking for a moment, "Then you want things that he has taken from you."

Spain and France exchanged smiles. "Exactly!" They answered together.

America was quiet for a few minutes, and then answered. "England took Florida from you after the last war, so I will ask for Florida to give back to you." Spain's eyes lit up with humor at America's proposal, until he continued, "But you have to promise to let me have access to the Mississippi river for trade."

The humor left Spain's eyes, but the smile remained. _"Claro que __sí."_

_America next turned to France. "I've actually thought about this for a long time. If there were ever some way I could make things up to Canada I would do it. France, I'm going to ask for Canada, then give hi-"_

_"Non America, merci, but that is unnecessary." France said, a tender smile on his face as he looked at the young country._

_America blinked, and stuttered, "I-I don't understand."_

_France stood up and walked over to America; he put one hand on the arm of the chair and the other on America's shoulder. "England can keep Canada; I have an alliance with you."_

_"We made an alliance to fight the war together." America said._

_"But America," France said, his smile broadening, "Certainly our alliance will continue beyond the war? I would hope that we remain friends, __non?__" He put his fingertips on America's chin and smiled down into his young, blushing face._

_America stood up abruptly, almost knocking France to the floor. "Friends? Of course France, we'll always be friends!" America laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I see I have a lot to think about. If you don't mind I'm going to take a walk and plan out what to do next. Thanks for explaining this treaty process, both of you, I really appreciate it!" He spoke quickly as he made his way to the door._

_"Fine, you do that." France said, watching the boy move quickly to the door. "Don't be gone for too long, we're dining out this evening. Try to pick something a little more colorful to wear? You dress like a Quaker! "_

_America turned as he opened the door and looked back at France, "Dressing that way makes me stand out and get more attention." He gave a brief smile to the other countries as he exited as quickly as was politely possible._

_Spain barely contained his laughter until after the door closed behind the young country. "Do you think he understood any of that?"_

_"Like it will do him any good now." France replied. "I must admit however I find his _naïveté charming.

"In a way a cat finds playing with a mouse before he eats it charming." Spain said.

"If I were to ask England right now to trade Canada for America, how long would he hesitate?"

Spain stared at France, "You're not considering …"

"No, not at all!" France laughed, slapping the other nation on the back. "But the genuine gesture America wanted to make shows how much he still has to learn. England can keep Canada. I have America."

America stepped into his room and leaned up against the door as he closed it. His eyes ran over furniture and objects as his mind spun, eyes landing on the small writing desk next to the bed. France wasn't interested in negotiating for independence because he wanted to make America dependent on him; he saw that now. He also knew there was no way he could go to any peace negotiation with France. To do so would put him right back into the same problem he just fought to get out of. Now America found himself in the position to ask for assistance from the last country on Earth willing to give it to him at that moment, but whom else could he ask for help? He took a deep breath and walked to the writing desk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prussia's eyes danced with amusement as he finished reading the letter that had just arrived for England. He carefully folded the piece of paper and picked up the wax seal he painstakingly removed so not to damage it and held it over the candle flame long enough to soften and replace it back to reseal it. He picked the letter up and fanned it, smiling wickedly to himself as he mentally reread the letter in his head. Behind him, England groaned painfully in his drunken stupor as he sprawled on the chaise he had passed out on some hours before.

Prussia looked back at his inebriated friend from where he sat, studying England's disheveled look and unhealthy pallor. He chuckled softly as he tossed the letter back on the table and sprang up from his seat, crossing over to the chaise and scooping England up in his arms to carry him outside. "Time to sober up my friend, America's finally realized the wolf's jaws are about to snap shut!"

England frowned and groaned again, the sudden movement making his head spin, "Fu' tha' ungrateful bastard, I hope he gets torn t' shreds."

"No one deserves to be ravaged by France, not even obstinate, undisciplined children." Prussia laughed as he carried England out of the house and down to the small lake England kept stocked for fishing. His boots made a loud, pounding clatter on the wooden boards of the dock that caused England to whimper in pain as the sound assaulted his ears. Prussia stopped at the edge, looked at the murky, chilly water lapping below and unceremoniously tossed England in, laughing as the other country hit the water with a loud splash.

England shot out of the water and flailed, screaming as the icy water engulfed him. He struggled to keep his head out of the water as he gulped for enough air to fill his lungs. "PRAT!" He hoarsely shouted up at Prussia, who had crouched down on the dock grinning at England's suffering.

"Are we awake now? You have important business to take care of." Prussia said has he enjoyed England's discomfort far more than he should. "A letter from America just arrived and I thought you would want to be sober before you read it."

England's bloodshot eyes opened wide at Prussia's news and he quietly tread water for a second before the scowl returned, "Fuck America! Bloody ungrateful little prick can go to hell for all I care!"

Prussia stood up and glared down at the shivering country bobbing in the water. "Go to hell yourself; that bloody ungrateful little prick swallowed his pride to throw you a bone, now man up and deal with it." He turned to walk back up to the house and laughed. "Get out of the water before you catch pneumonia idiot!"

England stared up at Prussia, groaning at his pounding head the freezing water didn't help in the least. He smacked at the water with his arms and began wading out, teeth chattering as the cold air made contact with his wet skin and clothes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

America stood and watched the group of men seated around the small table in the middle of the room as they passed around the sheet of parchment to write their signatures and finish the negotiations. As the British delegate lifted his pen from the page Benjamin Franklin glanced up at America and gave him a wink. The new nation couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face and he realized he had been holding his breath. He looked across the room to where England was seated. Without looking at America, he rose out of his seat and walked to the window. He looked at the set of England's shoulders and understood that he wanted no part of the joy America felt at that moment. With a final look at the men seated around the table America walked into sitting room next door.

Prussia, France and Spain looked up and rose to their feet when the new country entered. Prussia wasted no time to walk up and extend his hand to America. "Congratulations," He said taking his hand in a firm grip, "You know this means if I need to I can beat the shit out of you now."

America returned the firm handshake and chuckled when Prussia tried to not wince, "You can try old man."

Prussia raised an eyebrow at America's words, and then smiled. "You're going to be lots of fun, I can tell already." He gave him a friendly slap on the back.

America grinned when the slap he gave Prussia made him cough and double over. "I've always admired you, thanks for guidance you gave me when I was a boy." He walked towards France and Spain, who met him to congratulate him as well.

"Well done," Spain said somberly, "But I hope your new found freedom doesn't set a dangerous precedent for the rest of us who still have colonies in the Americas." He released America's hand and a trouble look settled on his face.

"My only concern is how will you govern without a sovereign _mon chere_?" France asked as he put his arm around America to give him a brief hug.

"Everything's worked out so far." America said, returning the embrace. "I'm sorry I had to do this, but independence was always my main objective, and I felt it would be better for me to settle things with England on my own."

"_Oui_, I understand, but your success has sent ripples of fear through every royal house in Europe." France looked into America's eyes so he could see the open concern in his own. "We had the same goal for completely different reasons and now there is a very unsettled air that has everyone on edge."

"I can't see how that's a bad thing." America said, genuinely smiling at France.

The door burst open and everyone turned to see England hesitate for a moment before continuing into the room and stomping away without acknowledging the others. France saw the look on America's face as he watched his former guardian disappear into the hall. "He will come around, give him time." France replied.

"I'm not going to cause more trouble with him; right now I just want to get to work rebuilding and get some fishing in." America said.

"Before you do that, let's go have a beer to celebrate." Prussia said, walking up and putting an arm around France and America.

Spain joined them and added, "That sounds like a good idea, we need to toast America and his new independence!" The countries laughed and headed for the door.

Prussia put a hand on America's shoulder to slow him down, "I'm glad you saw the light and realized France would look out for France first before considering your own wants."

"And what about you, Spain, or England? Isn't that what every country does, look out for themselves first?" America asked, perplexed by Prussia's comment.

"Are you still so naïve?" Prussia asked back, "England genuinely cares about you, still does. But you've made your choice and now you have to live with the consequences for better or worse. You're fair game, including and especially to him."

"Then I will have to become as strong as England so I can take care of myself." America said, the grin of youth and overconfidence returning to his face. "Let's go have that beer now."

Prussia tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, "Indeed, lets."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: More drama in the peace negotiations than the entire war. France insisted that the US form an alliance before they would enter the war. The Americans were wary of this, but they were desperate for France's help and signed the agreement. When the war ended and France refused to agree to any of America's terms for peace John Jay became suspicious and figured out what the French were up to. France's post war plan for America was to let Britain keep Canada, which would keep the Americans dependent on French help. France also intended to keep the Proclamation of 1763 in place, which wouldn't allow the US to expand westward. Spain would manage the lands west of the Appalachian Mountains and keep the Americans clinging to the Atlantic coast. Once Franklin, Adams and Jay realized they were in trouble, they asked the English to negotiate a separate peace without France. Chapter 12 will come soon, and thanks for sticking with it so far!


	12. Chapter 12

To my readers! I am SORRY it has been so long between this chapter and the last. It's the start of a new school year that keeps me very busy, and also canning season for the garden. I have lots of jars of tomatoes in the pantry now and the school year is well underway (first weeks are always hectic) so I hope to have more time to write.

Also, this is the second to the last chapter of "A Little Knowledge … " I can go on if readers want (that whole Tallyrand XYZ Affair with France could be fun) but the last chapter has been written for a while and I thought 13 would be a fitting number to end with. Thanks so much for sticking with me!

~*~*~*~

America jumped out of the boat into the icy waters and helped the fishing crew drag it to the beach, finding a niche in the rocks to secure it. Once the boats were landed they hauled their catch of cod up onto the headland, and began the process of preparing the fish for the trip back to Boston. America had just returned from the boat with another load of salt when he heard a familiar voice sneer at him, "Thanks to you France doesn't get to fish here much anymore."

His head shot up and he peered into the tree line, standing there glaring angrily at him was Canada. He dropped the bag of salt and walked up to the trees. "It's good to see you again." He said.

Canada looked at him for a moment before the features on his face softened, "It's good to see you again too." Kumajirou waddled out of the woods and sat down, swatting at a fly buzzing around his head.

"Rights to fish on the Grand Banks is one of my treaty concessions and I get first dibs." America said, picking up the bag of salt and resting it on his shoulder. "So you better get used to seeing me here from time to time. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get this fish salted down for the trip home." He turned and started making his way back to the boats the the rest of the fisherman already processing their catch.

Canada started after him, "America, wait!"

America stopped and turned, "What is it?"

Canada looked at him intently for a few moments and said, "Do you realize what you've done? Don't you see how this is affecting the rest of the world?"

America studied the other country's flustered face for a moment, "How could I possibly affect the rest of the world? I just fought for my independence from England so I could be left alone." He frowned at Canada,

"You are such an idiot." Canada stated flatly, "Have you paid any attention at all to what's happening in Europe? France went heavily into debt to help you, and now there's a good chance there will be a revolt against the king."

America answered Canada with a slight smile.

Canada glared at him. "You have nothing to say?"

America's smile grew wider, "Revolt against the king? Good for him, I wish him luck."

The colony stared at the new country. "Don't you see what that's going to do? If it starts with France it might spread to the Germanies, Spain, Savoy…"

"Maybe it needs to, did you ever think of that?" America interjected. "Philosophers have been writing about this for a hundred years now, that maybe kings aren't the ultimate authority, that maybe people can decide for themselves how they want to be governed. The more countries the better! Anyone who wants to fight for independence should be allowed to."

"You're advocating treason on an international scale." Canada said.

America grinned, "If you succeed, it's not treason, it's a revolution."

"That's like saying it's not a crime unless you get caught!" Canada fumed. "Stop being so damn smug! I'm not deaf and blind and neither is England, your perfect government has no power and can't enforce any laws or collect taxes." You have thirteen separate little countries that have no interest in cooperating with each other. England is counting the days until you come crawling back."

"That will never happen." America stated.

"Really? Lets see … you still have a staggering war debt but of course no one wants to pay taxes; that's what you fought about after all. Your government has fractionalized into three groups, the Puritans the businessmen and the plantation owners with only their self-serving interests in mind. How am I doing so far?"

America scowled at Canada, "And every other country got it right the first time and never had to change anything. The people were always happy and there were never any internal conflicts or civil wars. How horrible with my first attempt at being a country I'm a complete failure with no chance of ever improving. I might as well quit now and beg England to take me back. Hell no! I'm not doing that! If it's not working I try something else, if that doesn't work I'll try something else! What I won't do is become a colony again!"

"Did I ever say become a colony again?" Canada asked, exasperated, "That's the last thing I would do too!"

America stared at Canada with an incredulous look. "Then why are you standing here yelling at me when I need to salt down this fish?"

"Because … because … oh hell I don't know!" Canada spat out, sitting on a log and resting his chin on his fists.

America sighed and sat next to him on the log. "Yeah, I realize there are some problems, and they will take time to figure out. The states are claiming land to the Mississippi because the British government said they could. The war veterans still need to be paid with the land they were promised, and everyone's printing their own money. The states wanted the government weak but it's not working."

Canada watched Kumajirou wander over to where the men were salting down fish, grabbing a nice plump cod for himself off the pile, which made a waterfall of fish land on the sandy beach before wandering back and plopping down in the sand to devour it. "At least you're aware of the problems, maybe there's hope for you yet, I was sure you would be totally ignorant as always of the situation."

America grinned at Canada and said, "Is that the impression everyone has of me?"

"Pretty much."

A soft chuckle came from the new country. "That may not be a bad thing."

"What, that everyone thinks you're an idiot? Do you think fighting for your independence will be the only war you ever fight?" Canada asked.

America picked up a piece of driftwood and started poking at the sand. "If I can help it, yes."

Canada stared at America until the other country looked at him. "What?"

"You're never going to fight another war ever."

"Not if I can help it. I needed France's help to fight against England and he's not very happy with me now. It's funny, but once the war ended and the peace treaty was signed a lot of things changed. I think France wanted to have control of me after the war was over."

"That doesn't sound like France at all!" Canada said angrily. "Why would he want to keep control of you?"

America looked at Canada, "Think about it, who has control of you?"

Canada stared at America for a moment, then his face turned red with anger. "Bullshit! How dare you say they would use us as an excuse to fight each other!"

"If it's bullshit, why are you so angry Canada? You know either one of them will use any excuse to fight, and France's alliance as far as he was concerned would keep him in the game here."

Canada glared at America for a moment, and then his features softened. "Is that what they're really like over there?"

America let out a cynical chuckle, "You really have no idea. Yes they are really like that over there, which is why I'm glad I'm over here and want as little to do with them as possible."

Canada watched Kumajirou sniff at the shrinking pile of fish before selecting another one. "I wish you good luck then, not sure how long you will manage to do it."

"After spending time over there with them … hopefully I won't have much need to interact with them." America said, poking at the sand with his driftwood again. "It's strange, it's like they've known each other forever, like family, yet they hate each other at the same time."

"Really? That's weird." Canada mused, watching the other fisherman get nervous as Kumajirou began sniffing at the small hill of entrails and fish heads piling up where they worked.

"Not as weird as they sound when they speak their own languages." America chuckled.

Canada frowned, "What do you mean by that?"

The new country grinned. "Well, when a German speaks German? He sounds like he's trying cough up a lung or the world's biggest ball of phlegm."

"That's ridiculous, really?"

"Yeah, and when a Spaniard speaks Spanish, he sounds like he's lisping because someone busted out his two front teeth."

"What ..." Canada couldn't stifle a giggle.

America looked at Canada and smiled, "Italians sound like they're trying sing, spit and gargle at the same time."

"No they don't!" Canada retorted, but still couldn't stop laughing.

"And the French sound like they have a frog shoved up each nostril when they speak." America laughed, "They were the funniest of all."

Canada let out a few half hearted chuckles, then looked at America with sad eyes. "You got Florida back for Spain, why didn't you do the same for France?"

America looked at Canada, "Huh?"

"Don't huh me! Answer the question!"

America frowned and watched the waves rolling in with the tide. "I just couldn't."

"Oh, you couldn't reunite me with mon père ?" Canada spat out.

America looked at Canada, "No I couldn't."

Canada glared at America, "You greedy bastard."

"It's not like that!" America angrily shot back. "I told you, it's very different over there. They're always trying to screw each other over ... oh never mind! I just couldn't, okay?"

Canada stood up, "I guess it has to be." Kuma picked up the half eaten fish he had been lazily gnawing on and growled as he walked past America. Canada followed him towards the trees, but stopped and turned before reaching them. "Years ago I told you I would get you back for having England take me away from mon père, I haven't forgotten." He then turned and disappeared into the trees.

"Nice to see you again." America said, then went sighed and walked back down to the boats to help load the fish for the trip home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: The Treaty of Paris 1783 allowed the United States to fish off the Grand Banks, which was considered one of the main prizes to received from defeated Great Britain. As a result, both France and England were very limited in the fishing they could do, as the United States fished there constantly. It was this as well as other issues that forced the United States to eventually find themselves eventually facing war with France or England in the near future.

Of the 10 articles of the Treaty of Paris between the United States and England, only article 1 is still in effect today.

The description of how the other countries speak their native languages is borrowed from _The Boomer Bible._


	13. Chapter 13

"C'mon everyone, the fireworks are about to start!" America shouted, picking up the large cooler full of icy cold beer and carrying it outside to the patio. Chairs were set up on the lawn, and everyone who wasn't already outside enjoying the evening began making their way out to the waiting chairs and mosquitoes. Cans of bug repellant were passed around as well as beer as everyone settled down to watch the anticipated fireworks show.

Germany finished going through the trash generated from the birthday party, separating the recycling. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink and found a clean towel to dry them on. Walking outside he stopped as America set the cooler down next to his chair on the patio. "America, have you been using the recycling bins I gave you? Most of this garbage isn't garbage at all." He said irritably.

America glanced up at Germany while grabbing a beer out of the cooler. "Uh sure, I was going to do that in the morning."

Germany glared at him, "That's very inefficient, do it now and you won't have such a huge task tomorrow."

"Hey, come on Germany don't bother with it now, it's a party! Want a beer?" He asked, offering up an icy, dripping bottle.

"Aaaaaaaaah … American beer, no thanks I'm good." He replied, walking off to take a seat next to Prussia, who was busy spraying bug repellant on Romano and _Veneciano_; the latter hollering at Prussia because he got some of the spray in his eyes.

"I'm blind I'm blind!" He screamed hysterically, dancing around in the grass.

"Shut the hell up! You're such an idiot!" Romano fumed, trying to ignore the tacky feeling on his skin and sitting down in his lawn chair.

Prussia sat holding the can and watching Veneciano squirm, then shrugged and tossed the can over to Ukraine. "I told you to hold still, not my fault." Germany groaned and shook his head.

America twisted the top off the beer bottle and took the first long swig, "Ahh," he said, enjoying the first hoppy taste of a cold brew. Canada at that moment came through the patio door and America sat up to get his attention.

"Canada! Got a seat saved for ya right here next to me," America exclaimed, patting a matching chaise lounge next to his. "The two birthday boys should sit together!"

Canada gave him a slight smile, "Uh, sure America." He placed a small cooler next to his seat and sat down.

"Beer?" America pulled a bottle out of his cooler and offered it to him.

Canada stared it for a moment, and then said, "Yes, it is." He pulled out a Molson from his own cooler, twisting off the top and taking a large swig.

America sighed and dropped the beer into the cooler. Just then Russia walked through the patio door. "Russia! Want a beer?" He picked up Canada's rejected bottle and held it up the tall country.

Russia looked down at America and smiled. "Ah, no thank you, I already have something." He held up the still frosty bottle of Stolichnaya taken from America's freezer. "Spasiba." He said, walking away and taking a huge drink from the bottle.

"I gotta find someplace else to keep my vodka." America said, sighing and watching sadly as the bottle quickly disappeared into Russia's gullet. The tall country sat down next to France and Spain, who were swatting mosquitoes and waiting patiently for the can of bug spray to make it over to them.

The first test firework was shot into the air; it exploded over their heads with a loud BANG! Which caused Veneciano to jump out of his lawn chair and let out a loud yelp. "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! Save me Romano!" He screamed, falling into his brother's lap.

"Get off me you bastard! They're just getting started!" Romano's face turned deep red as he grabbed Veneciano and shoved him back down in his own lawn chair. "Stay off of me damn it!"

"Alright! The show's about to start!" America said, settling in and opening a fresh beer.

"Oh I almost forgot; this is for you America." Canada said, pulling a dark cylinder shaped object from his shirt pocket and holding it out to the other country. "I thought you would enjoy this."

America accepted the gift from Canada, realizing in the dim light coming from the house through the patio door it was a long, thick cigar. "Wow, that looks great Canada!"

Another cigar appeared in Canada's mouth, who produced a book of matches and struck one. Lighting his own first, he moved the burning match in America's direction; the other country leaned over with his own cigar in his mouth and began drawing in when the flame connected with it. "Thanks Canada, this is really great of you." He blew the grayish-blue smoke out of his mouth. "Tastes really smooth."

Canada pulled on his own cigar, the glow from the lit end briefly illuminating his face. "They're my favorite."

The first colorful starbursts of fireworks filled the sky. Everyone sat back, enjoying beverages and snacks, while watching the show. The occasional "Oooo" and "Ahhh" was heard, mostly from the direction of the Italy brothers.

"Happy Birthday America." Canada said, his face lit up by fireworks, a cloud of thick cigar smoke forming around him.

"Happy Birthday Canada." America answered back, his own head surrounded by a thick blue cloud.

They sat silently watching the fireworks; the flashes and sprays of color in the sky reflecting in their glasses. Cigar smoke began to fill the patio area. "Hey America?"

Puff, puff, "… Yeah?"

"That sure was a crazy time back then, wasn't it?"

"Hmmm? Oh … yeah, it sure was. Scariest time of my life, and the best time of my life."

Canada pulled the cigar out of his mouth and grinned. "Yeah, I bet it was." He emptied his beer and reached into his little cooler for another one.

"Good idea!" America said, also draining his bottle and pulling another one out of his much larger cooler. "It was worth it though."

Canada took a long drink from his beer, eyes still glued to the display in the sky. "It was a scary time for me too, and pretty sad, being taken from France who raised me like a father. Then I was forced to live with England. Where is England?"

"He doesn't really likes coming to my birthday party."

"Shame, you always put on a good one." Canada said, lifting his beer to America in a toast. America grinned and tapped his bottle against Canada's, who then took another long swig before going back to his cigar.

America settled back into his chaise lounge after another refreshing pull from his beer bottle and began puffing away at his cigar again. Canada's mentioning of coming to live with England when they were both still boys reminded America of how sad Canada had been, and then angry when he found out it was America who asked England to demand custody of Canada after the French and Indian War. He still felt guilty for being selfish in wanting company while England went away for such long stretches of time. Although he and Canada otherwise got along really well, he knew that one little detail was a still sore point between them.

Canada sat with his arms resting on the armrests of the chaise lounge, fingers clasped together and enjoying his cigar. "How is that cigar America?"

America took it out of his mouth and smiled, still watching the fireworks. "It's great Canada, thanks again for bringing them. It's added a nice touch to the evening."

Canada removed his own cigar from his mouth and looked at it in his fingers. "Good," He replied, the smile on his face taking on a sinister leer, "Cuba gave them to me."

America's eyes grew wide when he inhaled the smoke, sending him into a loud, painful coughing fit. He jumped out of his seat, his face turning red as he tried to breathe and shout at the same time. "YOU! Damn it! COUGH this is COUGH CUBAN?! Canada! For Chrissakes COUGH you know COUGH these are illegal! COUGH Fucking Cuban cigar COUGH COUGH COUGH on my birthday of all things!" The last bit came out as a strangled cry as America ran back though the patio door into his house, hacking coughs coming from a room inside.

Just then the grand finale of the fireworks show started. Around the lawn cigars came out of shirt pockets from where they were concealed and matches were passed around as the other countries lit up and enjoyed their Cuban cigars.

Veneciano and Romano took turns leaning down to the lit match Germany offered them, puffing away to get a good cherry going. "These are really illegal in America?" Veneciano asked.

"Ja, they are." Germany answered, lighting a fresh match for his and Prussia's cigars.

"Danke," Prussia said, sitting back and drawing on his with a huge grin on his face.

Spain exhaled a large cloud of smoke and looked down at his, "I've smoked many of these, and I enjoy every one _señor."_

_France smiled and tossed back his hair after lighting his, "They're always so smooth. Shame America feels the need to deny himself the luxury."_

_Spain's eyes glittered briefly with animosity, remembering all the help he had given the new country in winning his independence, only to have land taken from him again and again as America insisted on manifesting his destiny. "I still feel the need to deny America some things, but … it's a different time now."_

_France looked over at Spain for a moment, then back up at the constant display of color over their heads. "There must be something you admire about him."_

_Spain blew more smoke into the night air, "Alright, I do admire the fact that after all this time he's never told Canada the truth about you not wanting Canada back after the American Revolution."_

_Russia finished the last drop of vodka from the bottle taken out of America's freezer and tossed it into the yard. "Really? He's never told Canada after so long?" He took another long drag off of his cigar and blew a giant smoke ring, smiling playfully as it expanded and floated away._

_"Oui, he never has." France replied, a sad smile on his face. "That's a long time to keep silent just so not to hurt someone's feelings. A sign of real love." Russia and Spain both nodded, and went back to watching the fireworks. _

_Canada clasped his hands and put them behind his head, enjoying the end of his cigar and grinning like a tycoon who had just made a huge profit. His view of the fireworks was momentarily blocked, and then he felt a weight in his lap as Ukraine sat down and put her hands around his neck. His eyes grew wide when she put her face close to his._

_"That was a pretty dirty trick to play on America you know." She said, grinning down at the country now blushing red enough to match his hoodie. _

_Canada grinned back up at her, "He's had that coming for a long time." He put out the butt of his cigar and enjoyed the rest of the fireworks with Ukraine sitting in his lap._

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As promised, this is the last chapter of A Little Knowledge. I had this already written, went back to find it only discover it was gone … I don't know how; anyway I had to rewrite it which is why it took so long to get it posted. Thanks for being patient.

Bringing Cuban cigars into the United States has been illegal since 1962, and if caught will earn you a $1000 fine per cigar. There have been recent talks of loosening the trade embargo the United States has on Cuba, but so far if you want to enjoy a Cuban cigar you still have to go to Canada to do so.

The inspiration for this story came from an incident that happened a few years ago. Friends of mine had gone on a Caribbean cruise for their honeymoon and managed to return to the United States with a substantial quantity of Cuban cigars. I don't know how they managed it and didn't bother to ask, but did ask if I could buy one from them. That cigar became my Dad's father's day present. On the 4th of July it's a family tradition to watch the fireworks from my parents' lake house in northern Michigan, and that 4th of July my Dad smoked his Cuban cigar while watching the display.

Don't worry, even though this chapter fic is over I will definitely write more, and have written more about the crazy relationships between these countries. I'm having too much fun to quit!


End file.
